


Year 3

by unofficialsherlockian



Series: Sherlock at Hogwarts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dartmoor, Gen, Hogsmeade, Mentions of Suicide, Quidditch, Teenlock, Violence, Werewolf experimentation, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unofficialsherlockian/pseuds/unofficialsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sherlock and John's third year at Hogwarts, and Sherlock is bothered by an event that occurred over the summer; something he will not talk to John about. Henry Baskerville asks them both to stay over Christmas to help him with a monster, despite there being dementor protection. Moriarty plans to go up against Sherlock; meanwhile, Sherlock and John deal with sports, possible love interests, and monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> The events in this year provide quite a bit of buildup to the plot and actions of the characters in year four.  
> Feedback is always appreciated.  
> As always, I hope you enjoy :)

John's eyes snapped open at the tapping noise from his window. He sat up, blinking wildly, and looked outside. There, sitting on the roof and drenched in the rain that was pouring down, was Sherlock. John blinked again. And then, without hesitation, lept out of bed, crossed to the window, and opened it.

'Sherlock! What are you doing out there?' John was frantic as he helped a shivering Sherlock inside. 'Did you really climb up there?' He felt Sherlock trembling as he held the boy's shoulders. There was a lost look to his eyes as he took a few shaky breaths before answering John. 'I...Do...do you mind if I stay here?...J-just for the night...' His voice was small and waivering.

'Yeah-of course you can.' John was starting to feel slightly alarmed. Sherlock seemed to be in shock. Torn between not leaving Sherlock and running for his parents for help, John bit his lip. Then he pulled the orange blanket off his bed and draped it around Sherlock's shoulders. Sherlock flinched, but then wrapped the blanket around himself. John still didn't know what to do. 'Are you...alright? What...what happened?'

He put his hand carefully on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock jerked away violently. He breathed heavily for a minute, avoiding John's eyes, and leaned back against the bedroom wall. 'I'm...' He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the wood floor, his arms around his knees and his face buried in them. There was a quiet, steady patter of water dripping from Sherlock's hair, almost muffled by Sherlock's breathing. Then Sherlock's shoulders shook as he started to sob.

'Oh god...' John sat beside Sherlock, careful not to touch the boy. Sherlock seemed worse than ever with physical contact just now. 'Sherlock...are you...crying?'

'I'm f...' Sherlock choked out. He couldn't say he was fine. He sobbed even harder into his arms.

John watched him for a second and then leaned towards his friend, gently pulling Sherlock into a hug. The boy stiffened, but didn't flinch away. John was grateful for that at least. 'You're safe here, Sherlock. It's gonna be okay...'

Sherlock swallowed heavily, his face buried in John's shoulder. They sat like that for a long time, until Sherlock finally stopped crying and was able to take deep breaths without them catching in his throat. John let go of Sherlock carefully and sat back as Sherlock leaned his head back against the wall.  

'You can take my bed tonight,' John said quietly.

Sherlock shook his head sniffling. 'No, you don't have to...' But John stares at him until Sherlock finally stood and climbed into John's bed.

'Two seconds,' John said quietly. He went out into the hall and opened the closet, taking out a few blankets. The he came back and set up a place for him to sleep on the floor.

'I'm...I'm sorry about all this,' Sherlock muttered. 'I thought you might still...still hate me, but I had no where else...'

'sherlock, of course I don't hate you!' John sighed. "I'm sorry about last term. I was mad, and I shouldn't have talked like that. And I swear you're not a bother, staying here tonight.'

Sherlock laid down and covered his eyes with his had. 'It's been...a really rough night,' he said shakily.

They were quiet for a few minutes. 'you don't want to talk about it?' Sherlock shook his head and John nodded. "okay, just checking. I won't ask. Just...promise me you won't disappear before I wake up and make me worry.' Sherlock was silent. 'Promise me, Sherlock.'

Sherlock sighed. 'Alright...' his voice broke a bit. 'Can...can we stop talking for now?...I...I might cry again otherwise,' he finished in a small voice.

'Yeah, sure...'

'Thank...you, John...' Sherlock's voice was barely above a whisper with sleep. 

It was at least an hour later that John was still up, listening to Sherlock thrash and moan in his sleep. John wanted to wake him up, but couldn't bring himself to. He didn't want to see Sherlock hurt, or unable to master himself again. He felt selfish, but still he laid there, long into the night, listening to Sherlock's troubled dreams.


	2. A Bad Night

The next morning, there was a knock on the front door, waking John up. He got out from under his blanket and looked over to make sure Sherlock was still asleep before quietly moving out of the bedroom. He heard his mother's and Mycroft's voices, so he only moved halfway down the stairs and stood there, listening quietly.

'...need to sort this with both police, been talking with people all night-'

'I am so sorry...' 

'He won't want to talk about it.' Mycoft's voice sounded tired and slightly worried. 'He won't even want to see me; I just needed to know he was somewhere safe.' 

'Of course.'

'I hate to...but would you mind looking after him for the summer? John's probably the only friend he has.'

'Of course, Mycroft.' There was a pause. John felt his mother's hesitation. 'Can I ask...?'

Mycroft's voice had dropped so John only heard part of what the young man said. '....killed himself. Sherlock ran away just after I got there.' There was a deep sigh. 'This is my fault.'

'Mycroft, I am so sorry.' John could've smiled; his mother was probably offering Mycroft Holmes a hug right now.

'It's not me that needs concern, Mrs. Watson.' Mycroft's voice was stiff. He sighed. 'I wish things were different, but right now, there's too much I need to take care of.'

'Don't worry, he'll be fine here.'

John realised as he heard his front door close, that at some point he had sat down on the stair in shock. Someone had died...killed themselves, and Sherlock had most likely seen. No wonder why his friend had been so hurt last night; John remembered Carl Powers dying two years ago, and how much Sherlock had torn himself up over it. He hoped Sherlock would be okay after this.

John's mother stopped as she saw John on the stair and John sighed and walked down to her. 'Did you hear all that?' she asked.

John shrugged. 'Some of it.'

'Where is Sherlock?' 

John moved his head towards the stairs. 'Still asleep, with any luck. Listen, Mum, if he doesn't want me to know what happened...well, I'd rather hear it straight from him.'

John's mother nodded. 'Of course, John. Just make sure to tell him that we know in case he wants us for anything' She gave a half-smile. 'I'm not so sure that he would ask for help though.' She shook her head. 'That brother of his, he's an odd one. Oh, he gave me this note to give to you.'

John took the scrap of parchment and read it quickly, which was easy as it was very short.

      _Don't leave him alone, John.  
                     M_

John sighed, crumpling the scrap into his hand. 'He tries to stay distant, but I think he cares alot about Sherlock. I'm gonna go back up and make sure he hasn't left or anything.'

'I'll have breakfast ready once your father gets home. He got called very early this morning.'

John stopped in the doorway of his bedroom, relieved to see that Sherlock was still there. Sherlock jolted awake.

'John?!' His voice was strange. Then he sighed and bowed his head.

'You alright?' John went over to Sherlock's side, but still staying a way's away, hoping not to make the boy nervous. 

Sherlock shook his head, running his left hand over his face. 'Mmmf...no...no I don't think I am.' He looked up, staring at the air. 'I kept...having dreams...'

John blinked once before he realised what he was seeing. It was on Sherlock's hands, face, clothes, and some on John's floor where the boy had been sitting last night by the window. 'Sh-Sherlock is that...my God, is that _blood_?' John looked at Sherlock, trying to see... 'Jesus, i didn't see last night, are you-?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'I'm fine, John...I don't think most of it's mine...'

'You don't think?' John said incredulously. He caught sight of Sherlock's arm. 'Sherlock!'

'What-OW!' John had grabbed the boy's arm and Sherlock flinched violently, pulling away and standing on the opposite side of the bed from John, holding his arm to his body and looking a John with wide, almost scared eyes.

John swallowed, scared at how much Sherlock was shaking. 'God, i'm sorry...I didn't.' He looked into Sherlock's eyes. 'Please, Sherlock I don't wanna hurt you. I just want to see if you're okay...'

Sherlock closed his eyes and then showed his arm to John, looking away. It was a deep purplish blue. 'Does it hurt?' John asked.

There was a nod from Sherlock. 'Yeah...' he admitted quietly. 'Alot. I don't think it's broken though.'

'You said most of the blood wasn't your's...what would any of it be from?'

'My head,' Sherlock's voice wavered. 'You can...you can look if you need to.' He slowly moved to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge. John moved to stand before him and Sherlock let out a voient shiver. 'Can ...Can you maybe s-stand next to me and not in front of me, J-John?' 

John moved to the side, not commenting about Sherlock's stuttering. He slowly ran his hands through Sherlock's hair; Sherlock shivered. There was some blood in it, and a bump on the right side. 'What hit you?' John asked quietly, withdrawing his hands. Sherlock let out a breath, but was still tensed. 

'Nothing,' Sherlock answered. He met John's eyes and then looked away. 'Okay, that was stupid...Nothing I want to talk about right now.' He closed his eyes and shivered again, so John slowly moved back a step. 'I need to leave.'

'Sorry about that,' John said softly. 'Mycroft's dropped off your things. You need to shower and hopefully eat something.'

'I'm really sorry about this, John.'

'Listen...' John sighed. 'Mycroft told Mum what happened, and I told her I didn't want to find out unless it was through you...'

Sherlock shook his head. 'If I want to ...If I want to talk about it, you'll be the first person I talk to. Just...not now.'

John nodded, meeting Sherlock's eyes. 'It's all fine,' he said gently. 'As long as you're okay.' He smiled slightly. 'Go shower, I'll bring your trunk up. Dad'll be home soon, which means Mum'll be calling us for breakfast soon after.


	3. Struggles

'Dad's back,' John said as Sherlock returned to his room from the shower.

Sherlock shrugged and pulled on a shirt. He looked a bit better now that he'd cleaned up. The boy frowned, unable to hide the nasty mark on his arm.

'Dad'll probably want to look at that,' John said, watched Sherlock carefully. He knew Sherlock wasn't keen on doctors or healers, John's family or otherwise.

Sherlock sighed and nodded. 'I'm sure it'll be fine.' He sighed. 'John...I'm not really sure I can eat right now.'

John shook his head. 'At least get some juice or toast or something...' He looked at Sherlock. 'Please.'

They went downstairs slowly, John hoping his mother wouldn't say anything to make Sherlock uncomfortable. She gave Sherlock a concerned look, but set an orange juice in front of them and said in a normal voice, 'I'm making eggs, would you like any, Sherlock?'

'No thank you,' Sherlock said quietly, looking nauseated. 

Harry, John's older sister, came down soon after and stopped in the doorway. 'What's _he_ doing here?' she asked.

'Harry, if you can't be polite, you don't have to eat with us,' Mrs. Watson said from the stove.

'I've gotta dash anyways, I told Clara I'd meet her soon.'

'You can wait for your father if you need a ride-'

'No thanks!' Harry left.

John's father stepped in. 'Hello Sherlock.' He blinked. 'Ah, sorry, son, but your arm...'

John could feel Sherlock bracing himself from where he was seated next to him. 'Yeah....'

Mr. Watson looked at him. 'Mind if I look at it?' He frowned. 'From here, it looks painful.'

Sherlock nodded stiffly and John held his breath. He couldn't see this going well, but he knew Sherlock wanted to show John's father that he trusted him, so he felt he couldn't say anything. Let Sherlock be Sherlock was often the best course of action.

But too quickly, John's father had bent over Sherlock from the front and Sherlock panicked, flinging his chair backward and stepping back quickly, fear written all over his features. 'S-sorry...may I...m-may I be e-excused?' And He fled to the stairs.

Mr. Watson looked worried, and turned to John. 'I didn't-'

'Sorry, I should've said something!' John shook his head.

'Better go after him, John.' Mr. Watson sighed. 'Make sure he's okay. Looks like panic attack, so just-'

'Yeah...' John rushed up the stairs after his friend.

He found Sherlock crouched in the middle of his floor, doubled over into almost a ball with his hands over his head. The boy's breathing was sharp and fast, and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. John slowly crossed the room and opened the window and then sat next to his friend. 'Sherlock, breathe, it's okay. You're safe. it's okay.'

Sherlock let out a sound between a gasp and a sob. He was clearly trying to regulated his breathing.

'It's okay, sherlock, it's okay,' John whispered softly. Sherlock sat up a little, tears rolling from his eyes, still not breathing calmly.

'It's not, it's not...' A few minutes later, Sherlock's breaths were no longer coming out in gasps, and he sat there, trying to avoid looking at John. 'I can't...I can't deal with this, John.'

'Sherlock, you'll be okay. Whatever happened, you're safe now.' John felt like crying himself seeing his friend this unable to master himself. He knew how much sherlock must hate himself for it.

'You should probably go eat.' Sherlock looked up at John. 'But Mycroft told you to stay with me, didn't he.'

John nodded softly. 'He said I should't leave you alone...' John sighed. 'Was he right, then?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Maybe.' He nodded to John. 'Go get your breakfast, there's not much that can happen to me in a few minutes.

Frowning, John ran down and got a plate of food, taking a piece of toast in case Sherlock wanted some. Then he came back up.

'You okay?'

Sherlock was laying on the floor, taking deep unsteady breaths, his hands behind his head. 'I'm alive, but as far as you mean, not at the moment, John.' He met John's eyes. 'And no, I'm still not hungry, but thank you.'

John nodded and sat in his desk chair. 

'I don't really want to be near anyone but...I probably should.' Sherlock closed his eyes.

'Promise me you won't do anything stupid Sherlock.'

'Haha!' Sherlock smirked up at John. 'According to you, nearly everything I do is stupid.' He shook his head. 'Sorry...I know I told you to get food, but...I feel like I'm gonna be sick, do you...would you mind taking that out of here.'

'Sure.' John stood with his plate. 'You're gonna stay there?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Tell your dad sorry for me.' He frowned. 'I didn't...think.'

'It's not your fault,' John said, shaking his head. He brought his plate down, bumping into Sigerson, Sherlock's cat, on the way up.

'I let Sigerson outside for a bit, he didn't seem to thrilled by it,' Mr. Watson told John as he started washing dishes. The he turned to his son. 'Is Sherlock okay?'

'I'm not sure,' John said honestly. 'I wish there was more I could do to help him...'

'Just be there for him as much as you can. That's about all you can do.'

John shook his head and went back up to find Sherlock laying on his side, his hand on Sigerson's head. 'You okay?'

'Please stop asking John.' Sherlock gave him a pained look. Sigerson took his head out from Sherlock's hand and licked the boy's fingers.

'C'mon, Sherlock, even your cat's worried about you.'

Sherlock chuckled, and looked at Sigerson who mewled quietly. 'Alright, alright.' Sherlock sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head as he did so, and petted Sigerson, who purred happily. 'Yeah, you like that alot better, don't you?' He looked up at John. 'I suppose conversation would be a good thing...'

John smiled. 'Heard anything from Lestrade? I read he might get promoted soon.'

'Yeah, actually I sent him a few tips on some of the cases that he's solved.'

'Really?' John was impressed. 'That's brilliant!'

Sherlock smiled, perking up a bit. 'I kind of want to work with his lot after Hogwarts, but I also don't want to be tied down with all their rules, you know? I need someway of staying in between.'

John nodded. 'You should just do what you're doing now, at Hogwarts, and for Lestrade, though you should probably try getting paid for it.' 

Sherlock snickered. 'Yeah making money wouldn't be a bad idea.' He smiled at John.

'That's alot better,' John said warmly. 'Maybe you could also try out for the Quidditch team this year.'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because you were an amazing seeker when you helped me train last year, idiot.' John grinned. 'It's up to you though.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'We'll see...'

 

The rest of that summer sped along after that. Sherlock on most days didn't seem to be upset, but John was also figuring out more quickly when Sherlock was simply hiding his feelings. His friend also wasn't getting any better with physical contact. Before, Sherlock did fine as long as it wasn't out of nowhere; now, John was the only one he would allow to touch him, and that was only if John was very careful.

'You boys need to get to Diagon Alley soon, or else the term will start before you've gotten your things,' John's mother remarked at breakfast one morning. 'Sherlock, John and you have definitely grown, so you're going to need new robes.' 

'You never stop growing,' John muttered. 'You're gonna be bloody seven feet tall before I'm even five foot six.'

Sherlock smiled. 'I'll try to let you catch up then.'

'I can drive you both tomorrow morning, and pick you two up after lunch; I have some errands I need to run anyways.' Sherlock and John agreed.


	4. The Dementor

John's mother drove them both to the Leaky Cauldron and saw them into Diagon Alley before leaving to do her own shopping in London. 

Once again, they would be having a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, which they had a completely new set of books to buy for. To add to that, both boys would be taking up new classes this year, a prospect John found exciting.

'Arithmency? Ancient Runes? Aren't those supposed to be really hard?' 

Sherlock shrugged. 'They sounded interesting. More so than Care of Magical or how stupid Divination sounds...well, sorry, you're taking that, but still.' Sherlock tilted his head. 'And Muggle Studies would've been a waste of time for both of us, so...'

John shrugged. Then he looked at Sherlock. 'But you are taking Care of Magical Creatures.'

'Just because it's boring doesn't mean it doesn't have it's uses.' He smiled at John.

John grinned back, just glad every moment that Sherlock was happy. He'd hated seeing his friend so hurt this summer and not been able to do anything about it. 'So What do you want to do now? We're gonna be in London for a few more hours. D'you wanna stay in Diagon Alley?'

'We don't have to. It'd be fun to wander outside for a while.'

They both dropped their purchases off at the Leaky Cauldron, and then headed out through the front door onto the street. John didn't know his way around as well as Sherlock, so he was fine with following the boy down a few alleys and through streets. They both looked in storefronts and watched the city's people go about on their business.

'Have you ever been to Baker Street?' Sherlock asked. 'You said you knew some of London...'

John thought for a moment, watching a little girl strain against the bulldog she was walking. He smiled faintly. 'Always thought I'd love a dog.' He looked at Sherlock. 'I think I've bee down it a few times before, yeah. Why?' 

'It's where I'll be living probably by next summer. I'll be going there instead of to Mycroft's. Finally. 221b Baker Street.'

'There...there isn't a 221 in Baker Street,' John said, thinking. 'The numbers aren't like that, if I remember right.'

Sherlock smirked. 'That's what you think. No actually-' He froze suddenly, looking down the street.

There was a boy walking towards them. John recognised him from the Hufflepuff house, one year above them. Next to him was an older man. But John immediately saw that it wasn't either of those two that Sherlock was looking at.

Several yards behind them, there was a tall hooded figure gliding along. The air seemed to get colder as it approached and John shivered suddenly. He saw the old man look angry and the Hufflepuff boy look scared.

'Oh God...' Sherlock moaned. He shivered and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself.

John looked around. Some of the muggles around them were shivering or looking frightened. He saw the old man look at Henry. 

'Send it away, quickly!'

Henry nodded and waved his hand at the hooded figure. It swerved, mid-glide, and then disappeared.

Both of them hurried over to John and Sherlock.

'Is he alright?' the older man asked.

John nodded. 'I think so.' He felt mure calmer and warmer now that that thing had gone.

Sherlock  groaned softly and shook his head. 'Why was there a dementor...?' he muttered.

'What's a-'

'Sorry!' The Hufflepuff boy looked upset. and squatted in front of Sherlock. Sherlock gave a scared look and a sharp intake of breath and back away from the boy quickly. 'It was there for me. I'm Henry Baskerville...'

'Yeah, you're a year above us, in Hufflepuff,' John said, looking at Sherlock to make sure his friend was alright. He looked pale and it bit scared, but okay considering. 'What was that...a dementor...what is it?'

'They guard the wizard prison,' the older man said gruffly. 'Azkaban, it's called. And we've got a few around our home to protect Sir Henry.'

'And they-' John waved his hand, gesturing towards the passing muggles, '-can't see them?'

'No,' Henry said quietly.

'Do you want me to call for an ambulance?' An old woman had stopped on the pavement to see if they were alright.

'No!' the four of them said at once. She raised her hands and walked away.

Sherlock stood quickly and wavered a bit; John put a hand on his arm to make sure he would collapse and was reassured by the fact that at least Sherlock was strong enough to push him away. 

'Did you two come from Diagon Alley?' the older man asked. 'Sorry, I'm John Barrymore.'

'Sherlock Holmes, John Watson,' Sherlock said quietly. 'Yeah, we should be heading back soon.'

'We'll walk with you; we were heading there anyways,' Henry said quickly. He was looking at Sherlock, interested.

Barrymore walked over to Tom once they'd reached the Leaky Cauldron and came back, pushing a mug of hot chocolate into Sherlock's hands. 'Chocolate helps,' he said gruffly. 

'We can buy you lunch-or dinner,' Henry said nervously. 'Honestly, the dementors are supposed to stay on the grounds, not come with us...'

'It's fine,' Sherlock said, shaking his head. 'Really. But thank you for the chocolate.'

'He's...fine. Better let him be,' John said to Henry.

Henry grimaced at Sherlock. 'Again, I'm really sorry for the dementor.'

'It's fine,' Sherlock muttered. 'We'll see you at school, it was nice meeting you.'

Barrymore nodded, sweeping towards the back door to the Leaky Cauldron. Henry shot a look back at Sherlock before the pair disappeared out the back door.

'You could always ask for help, you know,' John sighed, watching Sherlock sit down unsteadily, his knees shaking.

'Dammit...' Sherlock murmured. 

'It's fine...' John shook his head. 'Don't worry about it, that thing made me awful as...' he looked at Sherlock. 'Sorry...why do you think you collapsed and no one else did?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'I don't know,' he snapped. Then he put a hand over his face. 'Sorry, sorry.'

'Mum's over at the door.' John waved to her. 'You alright to walk?'

'Quit it, John.' Sherlock smiled bracingly. 'I'm fine.'


	5. Back Home

John ignored Mycroft's next letter, especially since they were going back to Hogwarts the next day. John didn't really feel like talking to the man, and he knew Sherlock wouldn't thank him if his brother got word of the dementor incident.

It was with apparent relief that they arrived at King's Cross Station. John's mother gave boys a hug; John's dad hugged John and then turned to Sherlock. Sherlock stuck out his hand and Mr. Watson smiled while shaking it. 'Good luck this year, boys. Hopefully we'll be hearing from you soon.'

 

'Hello, freak,' Sally Donovan said loudly as they passed her and two of her friends in the corridor. She'd gotten taller, John noticed.

Sherlock swept into an empty compartment and put his trunk above him before letting Sigerson out of his cage and sitting down, looking out the window. 'And yes, I'm fine, John. I'm not gonna be upset every time Sally looks like an imbecile.'

There was a knock on the glass door. Sherlock and John both turned their heads to see Victor Trevor poking his head in. 'Mind if I sit here?' The ginger haired boy asked, grinning.

'No,' Sherlock and John said honestly. Victor looked at Sherlock at the sound of his voice.

'Jesus, your voice's dropped...Thanks.' Victor sat next to Sherlock, who looked at him curiously. 'How were your summers?'

'Not bad,' John shrugged. 'Sherlock stayed over.'

Sherlock smiled. 'Do you know Henry Baskerville, by any chance Victor?'

'Yeah sure, why do you wanna know about him?' Victor folded his arms and leaned back in his seat.

'Bumped into him in Diagon Alley,' John said. He thought he could see where Sherlock was going with this.

Sherlock nodded. 'He mentioned that he's got dementor's all over his property.'

'Does he?' Victor looked at them, wide-eyed. 'Well, I guess I wouldn't be surprised. Did you here that his father's been killed off now too?'

'"Too"?' John asked.

Sherlock frowned. 'Nearly every heir to the Baskerville family has died or been killed for decades now.' He turned to Victor. 'Henry would be the next heir, right?' Upon Victor's nod he smirked. 'I suppose they're being more realistic that that silly "Baskerville Monster".'

'Sorry, what?' John looked from Sherlock to Victor questioningly. 'Monster?'

'Yeah,' Victor frowned. 'It's some kind of legend that people believe, that there someone created a monster sent to kill all the Baskervilles. No one knows why though.' He shook his head. 'I think it's that Knight people up there, people say they create scary things, and people want to blame the Baskerville deaths on something different than a human killer or natural causes, so they guess that someone harnessed a monster.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Well-' But he was interrupted by another knock.

Molly Hooper stood with a first year. 'Hi, um Sherlock, Kirsty needs you help?'

Sherlock made a wincing face. 'Really hope you haven't signed up for a mentoring program.'

'I'm her friend,' the girl said. 'Please, it's my rabbit, he was meant to come with me here but he's vanished. He was locked in the hutch at night and now he's gone.'

John watched his friend scan the Kirsty's appearance and prayed that Sherlock wouldn't say anything to make her cry.

'You live in the country, he probably just headed off somewhere.'

'How...'

Sherlock gestured to her feet. 'Ah, no,' John said, cutting off his friend. 'Stop showing off to people you won't even care about five minute later,' he muttered into Sherlock's ear.

'No, let him go,' Victor said. 'I want to hear how he knew.'

'Your shoes,' Sherlock pointed, smiling fleetingly at Victor. 'Well worn, but with terrain and mud not found here in London. especially the mud and that they're well made for walking and hiking; the city's got sidewalks, you wouldn't need those sort of shoes. And you said "the hutch", not "his cage" or something like that, which makes me think your family has more than this rabbit, and you most likely wouldn't have a hutch full of rabbits in the city.'

'Nice.' Victor shook his head, grinning. 

Kirsty nodded. 'But he wouldn't have wandered; Mum locks the hutch with magic every night.'

'Can rabbits apperate, by any chance?' John looked at Sherlock.

'Not to my knowledge. Is that all?'

'He started glowing before he disappeared,' Kirsty said nervously.

Sherlock sighed. 'But that's it? I can't really do much. Your family's looking for your rabbit, you should hear from them.'

'Can't you do anything?' Molly asked.

'Nope. Only thing Kirsty can do is wait to see if her parents find him.'

'Molly has a thing for missing animals. First her owl last year, now Kirsty's rabbit.

Sherlock sighed. 'Maybe she'll run the managerie in Diagon Alley someday. Nah she wants to be a healer like you.' He shook his head. 'I'm sick of missing pets.'

'You're at Hogwarts,' Victor told him. 'They'll be something more interesting soon up at school.'

'Hopefully,' Sherlock said, smiling.

 

Victor separated from Sherlock and John at Hogsmeade Station, joining Peter Murry and a few others where they were walking.

John caught Sherlock staring after Victor. 'So are you guys friends now?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Looks like it?'

As they walked into the Great Hall and moved toward the Gryffindor table, Sherlock eyed the staff table and smiled, letting out a small breath of laughter.

'What is it?' John asked.

'We're gonna have a good Defense Against the Dark Arts class this year.'

John looked up to see a tall, greying man in dark robes talking with Professor McGonagall.

'You know him?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Doctor Rederick Bell,' he said fondly. 'Well, we'll have to say "Professor" now...Anyways, I knew him as a kid.'

'I just realised-' John looked at the Slytherin table. 'It's Moriarty's last year here.'

'He'll be back teaching, maybe even as soon as next year if Bell doesn't stay.' He tilted his head at John's look. 'C'mon, you can expect this.'

 

That night, in the dorm, John awoke to hear Sherlock's fitful sleeping. John sat up and sighed, looking at his friend, sleeping next too him. Suddenly he looked up and met eyes with Victor, who was also looking concernedly at Sherlock. John frowned and laid back down, trying to get to sleep.


	6. Professor Bell

Sherlock was already sitting down in the common room when John came down the steps yawning.

'Tired already?' Sherlock asked, with a small smirk upon his lips. 'C'mon. Your mum's been feeding me too regularly-I'm starving.'

John laughed. 'I think that's a good thing then.

'Morning John,' Peter said, coming down the stairs.

'Want to come to breakfast with us?'

Sherlock and Peter pulled identical faces. Although the two got along alright, being mutual friends with John wasn't enough to make them friends with each other.

'That's alright,' Peter said. 'I'm meeting Victor down there anyways.'

As soon as they reached the Gryffindor table, McGonagall was striding over to them to hand them their schedules for the year.

'No new classes for me today,' John sighed over his toast. 'But Defense Against the Dark Arts is first thing today.

Sherlock nodded. 'That should be interesting.'

'Yeah, except for the fact that we're with the Slytherins.' John looked at Sherlock. 'What house was Bell in, by the way?'

'Gryffindor.' Sherlock shook his head. 'He won't treat us better though. He's got the-correct- theory that your house doesn't determine what kind of person you are.'

'Hopefully he sees what kind of people some of them are then,' John said, looking over to the Slytherin table.

Sherlock looked over to, interested to see that Moriarty wasn't there. 'I have one new class today,' he said, turning back to the parchment. 'Ancient Runes after lunch.'

 

John looked around happily as they walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. every year, each teacher had brought new items to the room. Bell had many posters of dueling wizards and anatomies of the various creatures that were in their books about learning to defend themselves. John watched one of them featuring a man transforming into a werewolf, and then looked around at a few of the other Dark Arts objects featured around the room.

'Much better,' Sherlock said, smiling.

They took their seats to the front left of the room, and the class started filing in, students sitting on the opposite side of the room as the filed in. John was used to this by now; not many people liked Sherlock.

Victor Trevor sat behind Sherlock and Peter sat next to him. Both of them were looking around at the room looking impressed. Bell stepped out of his office and into the classroom, and was about to wave his wand to close the classroom door when Klein and one of his friends ran in, nearly late.

'I would ask you to attempt to be punctual,' Bell said almost cheerily, closing the door with a swift movement of his wand, 'but I can see that that would, of course, be futile.' Several students snickered. 'If you are late, you should be warned that I will not be held responsible for what happens to you.'

The two exchanged nervous looks. Bell looked like he was fighting to keep a smirk off his face. 'Now, I'm sure your two previous teachers have been very instrumental in your education.'

The class exchanged glances. 'That would be more than a bit of an overstatement,' Victor Trevor said, grinning.

Bell smiled. 'So I have heard. Two killers in the past two years. I'd say we should hope for this not to be a third year.' He looked at them all. 'So. I am not the sort of teacher who takes crap from anyone. At all. I teach you, I am paid for that. I enjoy doing it, and you might enjoy learning. But whether you want to learn or not is your choice, and if you choose not to learn, you therefore have no business being in my class and I will not hesitate to show you the door.' He looked around at them all, his silver eyes looking intensely, seemingly at every face. 'Do we understand each other?' he asked in a light tone.

The class nodded.

'Excellent!' Bell clapped his hands, making several students jump. The smile was back on his face. 'Today we're going to see how your dueling skills are, seeing as those are vital. Separate into pairs and we'll get started...'

 

Nearly an hour later, Bell dismissed the class, who seemed both excited to have him as a teacher, and a little fearful of him as well. Bell looked up from his desk to see Sherlock standing and John lingering behind him. 'Sherlock Holmes.'

'Sir,' Sherlock said, walking up to Bell and shaking his hand.

'How have you been?' Bell asked. 'It's been...how long?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'A while.'

Bell chuckled. 'I've heard good things about you from Mycroft-Oh yes, he still keeps in touch, unlike a certain boy here.' Sherlock looked up but Bell was still smiling kindly. 'I've heard lots about you and Mr Watson here.' He nodded to John. Then he gave Sherlock a piercing look. 'How was your summer?'

'Different than expected.' Sherlock said shortly. 'And... effective.' He gave Bell the customary sarcastic look he normally reserved for Madam Pomfrey's fussing.

But Bell merely nodded. 'I didn't expect anything less.' He smiled at Sherlock and John. 'Any time you want to catch up, Sherlock. My office is open. John, you're welcome as well. Any friend of Sherlock's is a friend of mine. You better hurry along, I have to prepare for my next class and you two probably have better things to do than to talk with this old man.' 

Sherlock and John walked out, Bell's kind eyes watching them.

'You never said,' John mentioned as they started down the corridor to their next class, 'how you know him.'

'Yeah, hmmm.' Sherlock looked thoughtful.

'You said he was a doctor,' John prompted. 'You don't like doctors, though. You also said there are no doctors in the wizarding world.'

'Yes.' Sherlock smiled wistfully. 'Bell's been the only doctor or healer I've ever liked. Besides you, when you're one,' he added, grinning. 'As for why he's a doctor, he's a special case. He normally helps out muggle born wizards and their families...he fits in well with that.'

'But you're not muggle born,' John pointed out.

'No.' Sherlock smiled. And John knew that was all he'd get from this discussion for a while.


	7. The Footprints of a  Gigantic Hound

'Did you get that form signed?' John asked one afternoon at lunch, after an enjoyable lesson of Care of Magical Creatures (even Sherlock had liked it). 'The one about visiting the village, I mean.'

'Oh!' Sherlock grinned. 'Yeah, I did. It'll be good to get out of the castle for a few weekends this year.'

'Definitely,' John said happily. 'What's down there anyways?'

'Sweetshop, few pubs and restaurants, joke shop, post office, houses...the Shrieking Shack.' Sherlock looked at John.

'What's that?'

Sherlock chuckled. 'Most haunted house in Britain-if you believe what people say. No one's ever been in it to see if it's a ghost or not though.

'Wow. We should check it out. Be alot more interesting than looking at shops all day.'

Sherlock nodded. 'There's alot in Hogsmeade to do. Should be fun.' Sherlock pulled out his star charts, unfinished and due that night. 'Can I see yours?'

'No.' John said firmly.

'Sherlock!'

John turned to look behind him. 'Oh hey Henry,' he said, swatting away Sherlock's hand as the boy reached for John's bag. 'I'm not letting you copy mine, Sherlock.' 

'Hi John.' Henry stopped beside Sherlock, and Sherlock turned.

'What is it?' he asked. 'Dear god, please not another lost pet.'

'No...' Henry frowned. 'Um can I sit?' Sherlock nodded, raising his eyebrows at John. 'Listen...my family...they're rich, right? And after my father died, I've inherited everything...but the thing is that everyone in direct line to my inheritance has been killed off for ages.'

'Not just died?' Sherlock asked.

'Sherlock, I saw my father ripped to pieces a few years ago out on the moor at Dewer's Hollow.'

John swallowed. 'What...what ripped him to pieces?'

'The monster,' Sherlock said in a mockingly-spooky voice, widening his eyes in playful fear. 'There's a legend of your monster, the Baskerville killer.' He grinned. 'I'm far from believing in ghost stories, Henry.'

'No, I am too!' Henry looked at Sherlock urgently. 'This isn't some made up fantasy, Sherlock. I've seen evidence!.' He sighed. 'For ages after my father was killed, I was to scared to go back, but the healer at the manor, Mrs Mortimer, told me it would do me good, so before term started, right after we met in Diagon Alley, I went back alone. ' He frowned. 'I saw them.'

'What did you see?' John asked.

'Footprints,' Henry said quietly.

'A man's or woman's?' Sherlock's voice was incredibly lazy. 'You probably saw some sort of prints that looked like a monster's...must've been dark, yes?'

'Yes, but Sherlock-'

'They could be anything, then, which tells us nothing at all.'

'Sherlock!' Henry looked at him and swallowed. 'They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!'

Sherlock snorted. 'Someone's been told to many tales about this so-called monster.' He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 'There's no monster, Henry. The only thing you likely have to fear is human, which the dementors can protect you from. Excuse me, I have star charts to make up.'

John sighed, watching Sherlock walk away. 'Dunno what's up with him, normally that sort of thing would be interesting...'

'Say that again though!' Sherlock was back by John's side and John jumped. 'Say that again!'

'Er..I just said...' John started hesitantly.

'No, not you!' Sherlock looked impatient. 'Henry. What did you last say?'

'okay...' Henry looked up at him questioningly. 'They...they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.'

Sherlock grinned. 'Perfect. What did you want from me though?'

'Wait. Hold on.' John was staring at Sherlock. 'Four seconds ago, you were walking away because footprints were _boring_.'

'Remember what Victor was talking to us about,' Sherlock said to John. 'The Knight Industry, or whatever they're calling themselves now. They've been doing experiments on magical creatures-it's rumoured, at least-for ages.' He looked at Henry.

'I...was wondering if you two would want to spend Christmas down at the manor with me.' Henry looked down. 'I apparently have to go, and ... no one takes me seriously enough to go looking for a creature. Even though they put dementors up all over the place,' Henry said darkly. 'But...well, you guys have done alot here in two years, and I think I'd feel safer with you two around...'

'It's worth a look. It might be interesting,' Sherlock said. Then he looked away and said hesitantly. 'And..and er...the dementors....?'

'They'll be there...' Henry looked upset. 'Sorry Sherlock, I can't do anything about them.'

'No,no...no problem,' Sherlock flicked a smile. 'I'll figure something out.'

'Awesome. Thanks Sherlock. John, you're coming too?'

'Of course,' John smiled. 'Thanks for asking.'

'Great.' Henry stood and left.

'What are you going to do about the dementors?' John asked worriedly.

'Absolutely no idea.' Sherlock looked out the window. 'But that's my problem. C'mon, we've got class.'


	8. Questions and Plans

Richard Rybek, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, let John stay on as a Beater, without tryouts.

'You were one of our best players last year,' he said. 'You're strong for your size, and that goes a long way for a Beater. Now we just need to find someone who works really well with you out there.' He shrugged. 'And we need to find a Chaser and a good Seeker....'

'I know someone who's a brilliant seeker,' John said slowly, thinking. 'But it's not a good chance that he'll play.' 

'Well, who is it?'

'Sherlock Holmes.' Rybek pulled a face and John sighed.

'What?' he asked defensively.

'He...he can really play?' Rybek questioned, sounding disbelieving.

'Yeah. He flew around catching the snitch while I trained for the beater tryouts last year. Why?'

'Nothing.' The captain shook his head. 'Well...I supposed if you could get him to show up down here and prove he can play...that would be good.' Rybek looked at John. 'That's no guarantee he'll be let on the team, though!'

John didn't exactly want to ask Sherlock to play-the boy wasn't a big fan of any kind of sport. Besides, Rybek's attitude towards Sherlock was one that most of the Quidditch teams shared-or worse. John didn't think Sherlock would be welcome on the team no matter how well the boy flew.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock asked, as John walked over to the table they frequently inhabited in the common room. Sigerson leapt off Sherlock's feet to rub against John's legs as the boy sat down. Sherlock set down his quill (he was writing something for Ancient Ruins that looked complicated). 

'Rybek said I should ask you to show up for tryouts this year, for seeker,' John told him.

'Ugh, not him.' Sherlock frowned. 'His girlfriend was asking if he'd ever cheated on her, I was sitting near them and told her. She didn't like it; he liked it even less.'

'Well...he told me if you can play-which you can, you're brilliant at it-then you should join the team. We need a seeker, badly.'

'Why don't you two let tryouts happen, and see if you find anyone there,' Sherlock said quietly, 'and if everyone's _that_ bad, you can ask me again.'

John sighed. 'Alright, fine. Just...think about it, okay?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Also, I'm gonna be practicing defeating dementors this weekend. I'm meeting Bell after class tomorrow to ask about it, and then I'll go from there. Have to be good at it by Christmas time.'

 

'Sherlock? What do you need? If this is about that test, you did fine-you too, John, both were very good.' Bell stacked some papers.

Sherlock shook his head. 'No sir, um...I wanted to ask you about dementors. I know we don't cover them until later in the year, but this is important.'

'Why dementors?' Bell sat on the edge of his death and peered into Sherlock's eyes. 'Not planning on visiting Azkaban anytime soon, are you boys?'

'One was guarding Henry Baskerville over the summer,' John supplied.

Sherlock nodded. 'John and I are heading over to Henry's this Christmas-he's scared of the monster and would like some company. But erm...' Sherlock looked down. 'When we came across the dementor in London, I nearly collapsed...'

Bell looked up at him and was silent for a moment. 'I see,' he muttered. 

'I need to learn how to defend myself against one in case I get near one out there...I don't want to be passing out all over the place.' Sherlock looked at him. 'I know you can't really use magic over the holidays unless you're at Hogwarts, but there's exceptions for things like it your life is in danger and such, so dementors have to be an exception as well.'

'They are.' Bell smiled and stroked the stubble on his chin. 'Well, there are quite a few different ways of defeating dementors, most of which you will learn about sometime in your sixth year...as you're only a third year, I would recommend looking into the patronus charm.'

'What's that?' John asked. 

'It creates a sort of guardian to barrier you from the dementor. The problem with it is that it takes a great deal of concentration and skill to master, and requires immense focus on a happy memory.'

'Right.' Sherlock nodded. 'I'll check it out.'

'Sherlock, if you need my help with this at all, please let me know. It will be one thing to practice in a classroom, and quite another to try it on a real life dementor.' Bell looked worried. 

'I'll try it out as best as I can on my own.' Sherlock shrugged and looked at Bell. 'If I need help, I'll be sure to come to you.'

Bell nodded. 'Just be careful, Sherlock.'

 

'Henry-' 

Sherlock seemed to stop the Hufflepuff boy out of no where in the corridor on there way to Charms.

'Sherlock, what is it?' Henry stopped for a moment. 'I've got Care of Magical Creatures, I don't want to be late-'

'You won't, just a quick question.'

'Sure.'

Sherlock bit his lip. 'Hogsmeade, are you gonna be in the village come first visit.'

'Yeah, my girlfriend asked me to get coffee...' Henry looked at Sherlock. 'Why?'

'I'm assuming that your family or staff or whoever will have wanted dementors around the village-not in it, they wouldn't allow that easily.'

Henry nodded. 'Er, yeah. People aren't supposed to know about it though,' he whispered. 'Besides, it's not that much protection. if someone wanted to kill me in the village, they could've been hiding there all year.'

Sherlock grinned. 'Exactly. But from stories, you probably only have to fear danger on the moor.' Henry nodded. 'Okay. Can I meet you someplace later that afternoon, just for a short while?'

Henry smiled. 'Er, sure. Whatever you need.' He looked at his watch. 'Gonna be late, I gotta go, bye Sherlock, John...'

John sat next to Sherlock in Charms, and while they were waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive, he asked what his friend was planning for Hogsmeade.

'I want to try practicing on a dementor,' Sherlock said firmly. John sighed. 'Listen, John, like Bell said-a classroom is one thing, a dementor is another.'

John nodded. 'Just make sure I'm with you, okay? And make sure you've practiced alot before you decide to do this for sure.'

Sherlock grinned. 'You know me, I'm always doing things on the safe side.'

John could've stabbed him with his quill.


	9. Moriarty's Advice

'I don't suppose you have any business with Henry Baskerville?' Sherlock's voice was quiet from across the room.

Moriarty sighed, still focused on his potion. He measured out a powdered ingredient and tipped it into the cauldron. Then he sat back to let it simmer for a few moments. 'Can't stay away from me for a second, can you, Sherlock?'

'My anger at you is only matched by my admiration of you,' Sherlock said, pulled out a chair opposite the older boy and sitting down. 'Despite the fact that what you do is wrong, it's important to acknowledge the intelligence required to pul it all off.' Moriarty gave a slight nod, carefully measuring out the next ingredient. 'Oculus potion?'

Moriarty made a confirming noise. 'Brushing up on potions.' He pulled a face. 'Unfortunately, my talents lie elsewhere than the potions classroom. My marks are, in all likelihood, pitiable next to yours. The practice is well needed.' He narrowed his eyes, watching the liquid slowly change colour. Moriarty looked up at Sherlock, to see the third year smirking, and gave a slight grin. 'I don't suppose you'd like to tutor me?'

'What, the third year genius tutoring a seventh year, about-to-become-professor genius?' Sherlock and Moriarty both chuckled. Sherlock shook his head. 'Eventually, we've got to stop carrying away; people might get the wrong idea about us.'

Moriarty shook his head, still smiling faintly. 'No, I'm not involved in anything that's got to do with young Henry Baskerville.' Moriarty frowned, thinking. 'Has the legendary monster come to get him?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Something like that. They've got dementors around the place once the holidays start up. Heading down there with him and John. Just thought I'd ask to be safe.'

'Hmm.' Moriarty sat down and stroked his chin. 'I supposed it would be much simpler if I was trying to kill the kid...save you a trip to Dartmoor.' Moriarty shrugged. 'But he's done nothing to me, and has nothing of interest going for him...Except perhaps, his fortune and manor, but weaker men lust after wealth and titles. Probably looking for some shallow, greedy bastard, that's my thought.' Moriarty looked at Sherlock. 'Dementors certainly aren't the most fun of creatures...and that monster.'

'Oh, come on. Do you of all people honestly believe there's a monster?' Sherlock scoffed. 'It's a stupid fairytale.'

'Fairytales can always come true, Sherlock,' Moriarty muttered. 'You'd be surprised what goes on in some places; definitely look around the rumour mill once you get there. Also, if you can, a trip to that Knight facility might tell you alot, though there security's tighter than Snape's lips when he's angry. They've been accused of doing some pretty dangerous stuff.' Moriarty held Sherlock's gaze. 'It's my job to kill you, just remember that. You and I are destined to play this game until the end-our grand finale will be a great game between the two of us. Don't you spoil it by dying out there.'

Sherlock smirked. 'I definitely don't plan on it,' he muttered. 'Best take that off the flame; you'll ruin your cauldron and the potion if you leave it much more.' He stood. 'Oh-The Hufflepuff Quidditch team is fine, in case you haven't heard. The doxy venom was intercepted.'

'The game continues.' Moriarty smiled softly, going back to his work. 'Goodbye, Sherlock.'

Sherlock raised a hand in farewell as he swept out of the classroom.

 

The post came at breakfast the next Friday morning. Sherlock rarely received any mail, so John was surprised when a letter came for his friend. Despite it's length, Sherlock read through it quite quickly, and sent back a short reply, smiling. 

'It was good news, for once,' he told John. 'After Care of Magical Creatures, do you want to head to one of the empty classrooms and practice the patronus charm?'

John nodded. 'Sure.' He hesitated a moment. 'Passed by a classroom yesterday. What did you want with Moriarty?'

'Friendly chat.' Sherlock shrugged. 'And I let him know that we stopped the doxy venom.'

'Were you asking him about Baskerville?'

'Yeah.' Sherlock shook his head. 'He said he wasn't involved, though he sympathized. And he said he believes in the monster.'

'You said it was just a fairytale,' John pointed out accusingly.

'Just because Moriarty believes something doesn't make it true. There may be a creature, but it's a person this bent on killing all the Baskervilles off.' Sherlock finished his eggs and looked at John. 'Anyway, Moriarty suggested we started with the rumour mill and then see what we can learn about the Knight facility. He thinks if there's a monster, they would have been responsible for creating it.'

'Since when does Moriarty help you?' John said incredulously.

Sherlock smirked. 'Since something other than him is a danger to my life. He's hellbent on facing me, I'd hate to disappoint him.'

'Sherlock!'

Victor slid onto the bench beside Sherlock and grinned at John. 'Hi John.' He turned to Sherlock. 'Did you get the Arthimency done?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Did you get stuck again?'

Victor blushed and nodded. 'Yeah...' he shook his head. 'I like the class, but I'm definitely not good at it.' He turned to John as Sherlock rummaged through his bag, looking for the right bit of parchment. 'John, I heard you guys are looking for another beater. You might want to ask Bill to try out.'

'Murray?' John thought for a moment. 'He never struck me as too athletic. 

'He is.' Victor pulled out a quill, taking notes on what Sherlock had written. 'I was at his family's house for about a week last summer; we did a bit of flying, and he wanted to hit balls with bats at each other. He's not bad at all.' Victor looked at John. 'I know there's alot of difference between that and bludgers in a real game, but still, worth a shot, isn't it?'

John nodded. 'Definitely. It helps that we're friends too-if it works out, we'll do better across the pitch that way.' He looked at Sherlock. 'Given anymore thought to playing as seeker?'

'Nope.'

Victor looked at Sherlock. 'You can play seeker? You should definitely try out!'

Sherlock gave Victor a thoughtful look. 'I let John know that I _might_ if they didn't find anyone at tryouts...' He sighed. 'Though with John and Murray on the team, they'll be less people who hate me playing, that's something.'

'I'm sure you'd be brilliant,' Victor said, grinning. 'Anyways, I gotta go. See you both in Care of Magical Creatures.'

'You sound more open to the idea today,' John pointed out.

'I said we'll see.' Sherlock was staring off where Victor walked out.


	10. A Dementor in Hogsmeade

'It's amazing down here,' John said happily, as he and Sherlock wandered through the streets of Hogsmeade. 

Sherlock smiled and nodded. 'Definitely. Where do you want to go first? We're not meeting Henry for another hour.'

'Sweetshop?' John suggested, looking at Honeydukes. 'Even if it's just to get some chocolate for us later.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Probably a good idea.'

To anyone else, Sherlock would have seemed fairly confident about their plans to practice the patronus charm on a real dementor that afternoon. But John knew his friend all too well, and could tell how nervous the other boy was.

'It'll be fine,' John said. 'I'll be there, we both can practice. If you get too worn out, it's not a big deal. Besides, as a last resort, you said you'd go to Bell if you needed help, right?'

'Yeah, true.' Sherlock held open the door of the shop for John. 'Let's have a look.'

John was amazed at all the sweets around the store, and caught Sherlock watching him, a small smile on his friend's face.

'What?' John asked, somewhat defensively.

'Sherlock cocked his head. 'Nothing, nevermind.'

John shook his head. 'You're mental sometimes, you know that?' And he moved over the counter to buy chocolate for the pair of them.

Outside the shop, Sherlock paused. 'The Three Broomsticks is down there, but I think we should save that for when we're done with dementor practice. We can warm up alittle.'

A cool breeze ruffled through their hair as they walked down the street, lined with shops and houses. John closed his eyes and breathed in the fall air. It was nice, being off the grounds.

'So you guys been to the Shrieking Shack yet?'

Victor Trevor's head appeared between John's and Sherlock's shoulders. They both turned to look at their excited friend.

'No, have you?' Sherlock asked.

Victor shook his head. 'Wondered if you two would want to come if you hadn't.' He grinned excitedly.

Sherlock smiled. 'Sure. But we'll have to leave you after a while; we're meeting Henry Baskerville later.'

Victor snorted. 'Does he still have a monster problem? Did he check under his bed yet?'

John shook his head. 'It doesn't seem like it's that simple.' He frowned. 'He's helping us out with something now, and we're gonna help him with his "monster problem".'

They came up the hill and laid eyes on the Shrieking Shack. John wondered how old it was-it seemed very poorly held together, as if any of the gusts of wind blowing around them could have torn it down.

'Looks the part of the most haunted house in Britain,' Sherlock said thoughtfully. His eyes were shining. Apparently, haunted houses were interesting.

'So what makes this different from other haunted places?' John asked. 'I mean, doesn't Hogwarts count as haunted? We have ghosts-and Peeves.'

'The screaming,' Victor said casually.

John waited for a bit and when Victor said nothing more, John hit him on the shoulder. 'Okay, you've definitely been around him-' John gestured to Sherlock who looked around innocently, '-too much. Quit the mysterious all knowing act; I can't help it if I'm muggleborn.' 

He must've sounded more upset than he meant to because Sherlock and Victor both said quickly:

'Of course you can't John-'

'Sorry, I'm being stupid-'

John met both of their eyes as they looked at him almost anxiously and John let out a quiet almost giggle. 'You two are so stupid,' he said, smiling. 'Now, go on, answer the bloody question.'

Victor smiled. 'The screaming that comes from the house. People have heard almost human-like screams and cries-and howling, inhuman howling.'

'Needless to say, that's freaked out quite a few people,' Sherlock said quickly. 'Rumour got out that it was haunted. People were so disturbed by the noises that no one wanted to check it out. The sounds no one's heard in a few years, but still, no one wants to go take a look.'

John looked up at the shack, watching the shutters rattle in the wind. 'As if the look of the place wasn't creepy enough,' he said.

Sherlock snorted. 'I always wanted to have a look inside, just to see if there were any ghosts.' He checked his watch. 'John-we need to get going if we're meeting Henry.'

'Nearly forgot about that!' 

'Aright, I'll probably see you two at the halloween feast. Hope everything goes well with Henry.' Victor waved and set off back down the hill.

 

Henry met them at the base of the mountain. 'I left the dementor in one of the caves up there,' Henry said. He looked at Sherlock. 'Are you sure about this?'

Sherlock nodded firmly. 'Quite sure. If you can take us to the cave, that's all we need, you don't need to stick around.

'Okay if you're sure...'

Henry led them up the mountain. It was a slow trek, and difficult because of the rocks and growth. Finally, they stopped outside an opening. 

'It's in there,' said Henry quietly. 'Good luck, guys. See you later.'

'Thanks, Henry,' John said quickly. as he watched Henry slowly work his way back down the mountain, he turned to Sherlock, and saw that his friend's hands were shaking slightly. John bit his lip. 'You sure you're okay?'

Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded stiffly. 'If Henry wants our help over Christmas, we have to be sure we'll be able to help him, don't we.' He tried and failed to stop shaking. He was scared, John probably knew that, but he didn't want to say so. He was determined to do this, even if it hurt him.

'Okay, happy memory..' John muttered, as he walked into the cave. He'd been thinking of two summers ago, where he and Sherlock had been eating ice cream at Diagon Alley, and Sherlock said the summer with John was the best he'd ever had. John was ready. He could feel it.

Their practice sessions hadn't been a good indication of how well they could do today, but Sherlock and John had become very adept at producing thick silvery forms upon command. Sherlock had said this wasn't good enough-they needed full body patronuses. John just hoped that would they could pull off would be enough to keep them safe today.

Sherlock held his breath until he saw the dementor. Then he couldn't help but let out a gasp as the cold hit him. There was shouting in his head. _Focus_. None of what he was hearing was real. He needed to focus on the happy memory and keep it in his mind. 

'Expecto patronum!' he shouted. A white wisp shot out from his wand, creating a barrier between him and the dementor, but it still didn't look like anything. Sherlock staggered backward, feeling drained. This was harder than he expected.

'Hang on!' John's voice was above the roaring in his ear and the fatigue in his body. The wisp strengthened slightly as he focused on John.

'C'mon, Sherlock. My turn. Expecto patronum!' John's wand generated a white wisp as well, and it glowed, separated him and Sherlock from the dementor. Sherlock's patronus vaporized. John kept a steady hand, focusing on his memory, how he'd felt when Sherlock was so happy with him and life in general.

It disappeared as John grew tied, and John hoped Sherlock would have the energy to try the charm again.

Sherlock shouted the charm again, desperate to keep trying. But the wisp was weaker, the shouting in his head stronger. His vision swam and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was his patronus vanishing. 

John looked at Sherlock to see the boy waver on his feet, and then collapse.

'No, Sherlock!'

John's patronus disappeared and he shuddered as the dementor moved closer. He bent over Sherlock and shook him anxiously, but Sherlock didn't respond. 

'Damn it damn it...' John swore under his breath, his vision going blurry. 'Sherlock, sherlock....'He grabbed his friend's wrist and stood over the unconscious boy. Pointing his wand at the dementor and thinking of Sherlock's smile, happily saying John's name he shouted, 'Expecto patronum!' He thought only of protecting Sherlock. It wasn't a happy memory, but it seemed to be just as powerful.

A wispy white dog with pointed ear shot from John's wand and leapt at the dementor, forcing it back. John blinked in shock, but quickly focused, grabbing Sherlock around his chest from behind and keeping his wand pointed at the dementor. The dog was still blocking it from getting to the pair of them.

John quickly dragged Sherlock out of the cave and used his wand to move a large stone over the opening to keep the dementor in. Then he slowly moved Sherlock away from the cave and finally laid his friend against a rock as he collapsed, panting with effort.

This hadn't been a good idea. They needed someone experienced, who could drive the dementor away if they got tired. Sherlock and he had rushed into this too quickly without thinking, and it had gotten Sherlock hurt.

Sherlock groaned from beside John and John felt his body relax. John held out a chocolate bar to Sherlock as the boy sat up slowly. He took it, silently, not meeting John's eyes.

John didn't like it so quiet between them. He didn't want Sherlock to feel ashamed of being hurt, or not being able to hold his ground against the dementor. But he didn't like the thought of trying to make his friend talk without him wanting to. He didn't want Sherlock angry.

'Did you...get a patronus out?' Sherlock asked quietly. His voice was weak and he'd only barely nibbled on the chocolate. John bit his lip before pulling out some of his own.

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'After you'd...' he trailed off.

'Full body?' Sherlock's eyes went up slowly to John's face and then darted away.

John nodded. 'I think it was a german shepherd. I don't know; I was too focused on trying to get you out of there.'

Sherlock swallowed and sat quietly for a while. Then he met John's eyes and said in a small voice. 'Thank you, John...'

The wind blew again and Sherlock shivered slightly. 'I hate them...the dementors...' his jaw worked a bit. 'They make me think of things I don't want to remember...'

'It'll be okay, Sherlock...' John looked down. 

Sherlock nodded absently, and then saw John looking at him, concerned. He shoved more chocolate in his mouth. 'I'm fine, John. I'm sorry I made you worry...'

'We need another way to do this,' John said firmly. 'If you're gonna keep practicing, bring a teacher who can help next time, okay? I don't like to think of anything going wrong again.'

Sherlock nodded. Then he smiled. 'That charm's above the OWL level. Congratulations, John Watson. You can do a spell many of our fifth years wouldn't be able to pull off.'

John chuckled softly. 'You good to walk? If you still want to get to the Three Broomsticks, we've got a bit of time.'

His friend moved slightly unsteadily on his feet, but John was glad to see him moving in general. Sherlock bought them both butterbeers-a drink that John was amazed by. 

'This is incredible.'

Sherlock was grinning at him. 'Good to know. We can come back here next time.'

They sat there for a while until it was nearly time to get back to Hogwarts. John was reassured that Sherlock was definitely feeling better as the boy ate and talked with him and Victor Trevor at the Halloween feast. Hopefully, the boy wasn't just pretending for John's sake.

 

After the feast, Sherlock left John and Victor to go up to the common room, telling them he wanted to check something. He made his way to the third floor and quietly knocked on the door to Bell's office.

'Yes?' The door opened and Bell looked at Sherlock. 'You should be in your common room soon, Sherlock. I hope it's important.'

Sherlock nodded. 'With dementors,' he said slowly and hesitated. 'Sir...I need help.'


	11. Quidditch

'I need to talk to you.'

John turned around from where he was watching the pimplies in the shallow end of the lake. It had been warmer than expected for November, so Professor Kettleburn had lured some of the usually deep water inhabiting creatures to a place where the class could easily observe them. So the class had rolled up their trousers to their knees and waded into the water. 

The class had turned out to be one of John's favourites, given the amount of interesting activities they did from day to day. He couldn't tell if Sherlock enjoyed it or not, but the boy was doing really well in it, so John could assume that at least Sherlock didn't hate the class.

'Yeah, what is it?' John had been concerned for Sherlock recently; ever since they'd attempted the patronus charm against the dementor, the boy had been having nightmares or not sleeping at all. It worried John to see his friend suffering nightly again.

Sherlock sighed. 'I've been practicing against that dementor with Bell every few days.'

John blinked. 'I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner.' Sherlock looked down, kicking away a pimply that looked about ready to nibble at his foot.

'No it's alright.' John smiled faintly. 'I'm glad you're getting the practice-how's it been going?'

'Ugh.' Sherlock looked displeased. 'Better than the initial attempt, but I still can't produce a corporeal patronus. And it's been taking it's toll on me.' He looked away.

'I wish it was easier to do.' John sighed. 'To be honest, I think I was only able to do it because you were in danger.' He looked at Sherlock. 'You'll get it soon, I'm sure of that.'

Sherlock gave John a fleeting smile. 'Thank you John. I also...well, I noticed the Gryffindor team still doesn't have a seeker.'

'Nope.' John kicked at the water a little. 'Everyone who tried out was absolute rubbish. We've asked a few other people but no one's wanted to.'

'I'll do it,' Sherlock said quickly.

'I don't want to-You're already training with Bell every few days, and your work load is heavier than mine. I couldn't ask you to take up Quidditch-'

'John you asked me to earlier, and I said I'd think about it. I did and so I'll play.' Sherlock met John's eyes. 'You guys have got one practice before the next game, that gives me enough time to coordinate with the rest of the team and them with me.'

'Really?' John was shocked. 'Wow, thanks Sherlock!'

Sherlock smiled. 'Don't mention it. Who knows, it might be fun.'

 

'You're _sure_ he can play?' Rybek asked John, looking over to the side of the pitch where Sherlock was holding his broomstick. It was apparently the latest model, sent in from Mycroft a few days ago. Sherlock had apparently written to his brother that he needed a broom and Mycroft had complied, though not without questioning Sherlock on his life choices. Sherlock had told John that he'd ignored that letter.

John nodded determinedly. 'He's brilliant.'

'Alright, I'm desperate. Holmes!' He waved to Sherlock and Sherlock came jogging over. 'Watson says you're a fair flyer, and we really need the seeker. It'll be the first match, so we don't need to worry to much about points, but try and wait until we have maybe about fifty before you catch it, yeah? Put us at a good start.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Anything else?' He held the broom lightly in his hands, but looked ready to take off at the drop of a pin.

Rybek shook his head. 'It's our last practice before the game, so Watson and Murray will be trying to hit you and the chasers, while they alternate-one on defense, two on offense-with me.'

Sherlock nodded. 

'ARIGHT TEAM!' Rybek shouted, standing next to the ball box. The rest of the team flew down and posed, ready. 'Letting out everything in 3...2...1!'

John hurriedly flew up in the air as the bludgers were released. Two of the chasers were already pelting towards the goal hoop where Rybek was just flying to. John flew to the nearest bludger and hit it as hard as he could at Sanders who was carrying the quaffle. He grinned when his bludger made it's mark and she dropped it.

'Snitch!'

They all turned as Sherlock flew down to them, the small golden ball clutched tightly in his right hand. John grinned widely.

Rybek looked shocked. 'That...that was barely five minutes...' he said weakly.

Sherlock smirked. 'Let me give it more of a head start this time.'

'Oh my god.' Sanders shook her head. 'That was amazing.'

Sherlock let the ball and flew next to John while Rybek talked with two of the chasers. 

'Followed it from the second it was let loose. Though you guys should play a bit before I caught it, though.'

John shook his head, grinning. 'Sherlock, you're amazing.'

If John hadn't known better, he would've said Sherlock had blushed.

 

And hour later, Sherlock and John walked into the common room, both grinning.

'How did it go?' Victor asked from a nearby table.

'He was brilliant,' John said happily. 'Shocked the hell out of Rybek.'

Sherlock smiled. 'Glad to see you find that so amazing.'

'He was so ready for you to be rubbish,' John said defensively.

Victor laughed. 'I'm looking forward to seeing you guys and Peter play next week.' He looked at John. 'You and him are doing okay together for beaters?'

John nodded. 'You were right, he is a really good flyer.'

'Great!' Victor yawned. 'Anyways, I'm turning in early. Had way too much homework last night.'

'You shouldn't have done it last night at one in the morning then,' Sherlock said, sounding bored.

'Yeah, says the guy who watched me and didn't do his.' Victor chuckled. 'And somehow you still pass. Night guys.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'He's an idiot,' he muttered fondly.

John snorted. 'So what do you think? Like playing?'

'Never said I didn't. I just don't think sports are my area of interest. Though I am glad for now that I decided to play.'

'We're definitely gonna win the first game.' John smiled and Sherlock after a bit did as well.

 

20 minutes into the match John was hit by the opposing team's bludger. He felt a bone in his shoulder break and gritted his teeth. Gryffindor was in the lead, 50-40, but Ravenclaw was doing better every minute that passed.

'John!' Sherlock was at his side quickly.

'What. The. HELL. Are you doing?' John asked through gritted teeth. 'We're playing a match, not fighting some criminal.'

'Needed advice. We're fifty points up, do we need to win now, or can you keep playing for a bit?' He looked at the shoulder John was clutching in pain.

'SHERLOCK!' Rybek's shout cam from a few feet away as the flew near the goal hoops. 'Stop talking with John and go do your bloody job.'

Sherlock grinned. 'Answers that.'

He took off at a dive towards Ravenclaw's side of the field so quickly that it took a second for John to register that his friend had in fact left his side. Ravenclaw's seeker pelted at Sherlock, ramming him in the side, but Sherlock had the snitch in his left hand already. The Ravenclaw seeker looked murderous as he landed.

Sherlock flew over to where John was dismounting, to cheers from the Gryffindor stands.

'Shoulder okay?' Sherlock stepped off his broom, looking concerned.

'After Pomfrey heals it, sure.' John looked at Sherlock and grinned. 'Well doen, mate, that was brilliant!'

'Holmes! You're incredible!' Rybek leapt off his broom and wrung Sherlock's arm. 'Amazing, that was amazing.'

'No problem,' Sherlock said quietly, looking surprised.

There was a crowd of students on the pitch now, and Sherlock was looking nervous, so John motioned for his friend to follow him to where he saw Victor waiting in the crowd.

Sherlock followed when seemingly out of thin air a pair of lips was planted on his cheek and a voice purred in his ear, 'Well done, _Mr Holmes_.' Sherlock spun but saw no one. He looked around, to where Victor was staring at him, looking shocked, and John was turning around to make sure he was following. 

'Did you see who-?' Sherlock asked Victor.

Victor shook his head mutely. 'Sorry, gotta...go. Good game, mate.' And he hurried off.

John looked from Sherlock to Victor's retreating figure. 'What just...?'

Sherlock frowned, just as, if not more so, confused as John. 'I...don't know.'


	12. Sick of It

John opened his book to find the page McGonagall was referencing. Then he looked over at Sherlock, who was staring at something black scrawled across his page.

'"You would think I'd have you're attention after the match, but it doesn't look like that. Poor Mr Trevor. He didn't seem pleased at all."' Sherlock read a out loud in a murmur. 'Girl's handwriting...bold and flowing.'

'Someone wrote in your book?' John whispered incredulously, abandoning paying attention in class. 

'Lots of people do once they've found a way to take it.' Sherlock flipped through his textbook, showing John several pages bearing inappropriate drawings and words such as 'freak!'. 

'What the hell! Why?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Because they can?'

'Holmes, Watson, whenever you would like to rejoin the class,' McGonagall called out loudly. Sherlock closed his book. 'No, no, Holmes, leave it open. We are learning, aren't we?' 

'Some of us,' Sherlock muttered under his breath. A few Ravenclaws shot him dirty looks; Sebastian Wilkes looked ready for a fight.

'Holmes, you may be smart, but that does not mean you may slack off in my class. Your homework average would attest to that.'

Several students snickered; John heard Sally whisper 'freak' just enough to be heard.

Once class had let out, Sherlock was pushed into the staircase railing by Sebastian. 'Think you can show is up, _freak_?' A few of the other students gathered around them at a distance, to see what was happening.

'Not my intention, no.' Sherlock sighed, looking Sebastian in the face. 'However, if Ravenclaw students were once supposed to be known as clever, I'd definitely say that for you that standard's gotten a bit lax-'

Sherlock recoiled back as Sebastian's fist hit him in the face. He reacted quickly, lashing back out at Sebastian.

'Don't-no!' John called, trying to get between the two boys. Peter Murray held him back.

'Don't John,' Peter hissed as Sherlock fell against the railing, panting for a moment before he was hit again by Sebastian. 'Someone just ran back for McGonagall, you don't want to get a detention for this.'

'WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?' McGonagall shouted as she came through the doorway from the first floor. 

Sherlock stood slowly, wiping his bleeding mouth with his sleeve. His face was badly bruised and his mouth and nose were bleeding. Sebastian was sporting a black eye and a cut lip in return. 'Nothing's happened, Professor,' he muttered.

She ignored him. 'Detention, Wilkes!' 

'He hit me too,' Sebastian said under his breath angrily. McGonagall glared at him.

'All of you, back to your dormitories or class. And _don't_ make me ask again. Holmes, you stay.' 

John stayed where he was, worried about how upset Sherlock looked. 

'Holmes, what happened there?' McGonagall said concernedly. 'You're homework has been lacking, and now you're fighting, what is this about?' She reached to put her hand on his shoulder and Sherlock flinched away.

'Don't-...I'm fine, Professor.' John saw Sherlock's walls going up quickly. 

'You're bleeding, Holmes.' She met his eyes. 'Holmes?'

He shook his head. 'No...I'm fine.'

'Very well, go on back to your dormitory.' She gave John a look. 'You too Watson.'

John jogged up the stairs behind Sherlock to catch up to him. 'Why did you bait him?'

Sherlock spun around angrily. 'Oh, now I'm wrong because I'd like to defend myself? Because I'm _sick_ of all this?' His voice tremoured. 

'No...Sherlock-' John hung his head. 'I'm sorry, Sherlock... I didn't mean that.'

Sherlock sniffled quietly and John looked up. His friend looked like he was on the verge of crying. 'Sherlock-'

The boy looked away. 'Forget it, John.' He shook his head. 'Sorry...I...I shouldn't lash out at you, you're...you're the only person I've got.'

'That's not true!'

There was a bark of hateful laughter. 'Like hell it isn't. Victor's stopped talking to me. No one else in Gryffindor honestly likes me, you saw today what people in other houses think of me, Moriarty's got a whole band of Slytherins...' He swallowed heavily. 'I'm alone.'

'You've got me, and you've got Henry, at least. And McGonagall, even though she can be rough, you can't honestly believe she doesn't care, mate.' John sighed. You aren't alone, okay? And you won't ever be alone.'

Sherlock sighed and turned around, starting back up the stairs. 'At least I get to get out of here for Christmas,' he muttered. Then shook his head. 'Sorry.'

'No, I get it.' John sighed. 'I just wish people knew you better.'

'Me too...'

 

'Hey guys!' Henry slid into Sherlock and John's compartment on the Hogwarts Express. 'How's everything?'

'Good,' John said, smiling. 'Classes gone well?' 

Henry nodded. 'Yeah. Bit worried about Christmas now.' He attempted a smile.

'It'll be fine,' Sherlock said. He looked away from the window. 'So, anything else you can tell us about your problem? Or anything that would help us?'

'Erm...' Henry made a face. 'Well, the Knight Facility. They're apparently a Ministry compound. One of my dad's old friend works up there; he's back from a trip.' He thought for a moment. 'They do weird stuff up there-there's been crazy rumours of what they do for years.'

'Yeah. Sometimes Magical Creature experiments, other times different sort of magic. I was reading about it. Everyone seems to think your "monster" came from there,' Sherlock said.

Henry nodded. 'If there is one, I think it definitely would have come from there.' He sighed. 'I don't want you guys to get into danger investigating or anything...I just kinda don't want to be alone on the moor like this.'

John looked at Sherlock who nodded quietly before looking out the window again. 'Yes...' Sherlock said softly. He sighed. 'I'd still rather figure out if anything is attacking you-even if nothing happens this Christmas, if there's someone out there trying to kill you, they won't just go away just because they don't succeed just now. And you can't get people to stay by you all the time.'

'Yeah, I know.' Henry swallowed. 'I just don't want you two to get hurt for me.' He sighed. 'Especially with the dementors. I seriously didn't want you to come since you're affected so... badly by them, Sherlock.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'I'm sure it will be fine.'

Henry got up to walk around a little later and John leaned towards Sherlock. 'Did you...erm...solve your dementor problem?'

'I've done enough.' Sherlock sighed. 'Hopefully my skills won't be needed.'


	13. Dartmoor

'You've met Barrymore,' Henry said, as they walked inside Baskerville manor. 'He worked for Dad...now he takes care of everything around here.'

'It's a pleasure to see you both again,' Barrymore said softly. He inclined his head. 'My wife is currently seeing to some food at the moment, should any of you want some later.'

Henry lead them upstairs and threaded his way around some broken stone on one side of the hallway. 'There's alot of working being done on the manor,' he commented, 'cos it's so old and hasn't been fixed up in ages.' He stopped and turned to Sherlock and John. 'We...have alot of guest bedrooms-parties and such. There's actually supposed to be one at Christmas, but with the dementors around, I don't know how that'll go.' He sighed. 'Anyways, do you guys want to both be in a room with two beds, or each have your own room?'

'I-'John started, but Sherlock cut him off.

'Both in one would be fine,' Sherlock said softly. John blinked and looked at him. 'Don't want to take up too much space,' he muttered.

'Right then.' Henry pointed to a room. 'That's you guys then. I'm down at the end of the hall. I'll let you guys get settled and then...it's up to you two.'

John followed Sherlock into the room. 'Phew he's rich.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Definitely motive to kill off the lot of them.' He set his backpack down and was quiet for a few moments. 'I...I sleep better when I know you're there...' he said quietly. His face flushed alittle and he kept looking away from John's eyes determinedly. 'I don't want to be alone up here...'

'Right,' John said, nodding, trying to sound as normal as possible. Sherlock would see anything else as pity. 'Right.' He walked over to the window. 'Glad we haven't seen any dementors yet...'

'Yes.' Sherlock stood next to John. 'I'd prefer to keep it that way for the duration of our stay...' He turned to look at John. 'We should probably go find the Dewer's Hollow tomorrow and then head over to the town and ask around like Moriarty suggested.'

John frowned. 'Yeah, okay. Should probably also find out who benefits from all the Baskerville heirs dying, and who might have access to a monster of any kind.' He paused. 'Everyone mentions that Knight Facility, anyway that we could poke around up there?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'It's for Ministry clearance, mostly...' He paused, looking into space. 'Or....'

'What?'

'Mycroft.'

'What, you're gonna bring him up here?' John shook his head. 'He'll take you straight away if he finds out you're going hunting for someone who's killed an entire line of heirs. And may potentially have a deadly monster. We don't need to get in there, it was just a thought.

'And a good one.' Sherlock wandered over to his backpack and pulled out some parchment. 'Where's Imogene?' He started scribbling something down furiously.

'She'll probably be back later, I let her out before we got on the train.'

Sherlock nodded. 'I need to send this to Mycroft when she gets here.' He grinned at John. 'Telling him that you want to see the Knight Facility, that we learned about it in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He can ask Bell and Bell'll probably make something up for him. Then he'll write us clearance in, with any luck.'

John nodded. 'Hope so.' His stomach growled. 'I'm gonna ask Henry about food. Coming?'

'Yep.' Sherlock looked excited and John was glad. If the trip went well and they didn't meet any dementors, Sherlock might actually enjoy himself.

 

The next morning, Sherlock woke John early and the pair of them headed out to hike around and get their bearings. They walked for a while through grass and trees until they came upon many cliff-like rocks. Sherlock started climbing them and John sighed before following him.

The wind blew as they stood at the top, their cloaks billowing around them. 'Looks like snow,' John commented, looking at the dark heavy clouds.

'Hmm.' Sherlock looked out across the area. 'Did you bring that map Henry gave us?'

'Uh...yeah.' John pulled the map from his pocket and unfolded it. Then he looked out across the land and pointed. 'So...there's the village...' The looked out to a shadowy bunch off trees and beyond it, to a fenced in area of grounds and farther away within the fenced area, a large foreboding building. 'And that's Dewer's Hollow, with the Knight facility back there.'

He looked up at Sherlock, who looked like he was memorizing everything. 'What do you think's on the grounds of the Knight building?' Sherlock asked him.

John frowned, squinting the signs reading 'Danger' that surrounded the place. 'Dunno. Something bad, whatever it is.'

Sherlock nodded and leapt down from the higher rock that he was standing on. 'Village or the Hollow?'

'Village,' John said quickly. Sherlock smirked at him. 'What?' John frowned defensively. 'I'm just not too keen to wander into a place where a man was ripped to pieces by a monster.'

'You're ridiculous.' Sherlock shook his head. 'Alright, come on.'

There were alot more people in the village than John expected, many of them coming from or going to the inn. 'Tourism? Here? Where people have gotten killed?' 

Sherlock smiled faintly. 'The human race is decidedly morbid. Give us a crime and we draw to it, expecting to see something grotesque.'

'Yeah, about that.' John looked at Sherlock pointedly. Sherlock huffed and adjusted his scarf around his neck and kept walking.

Apart from Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade John didn't visit wizarding villages much, so he looked around everywhere, watching everyone. It was different for him when people didn't hide their magic. 

'Need to go to the inn first,' Sherlock said, leading the way. They passed a wizard who was conducting a puppet show of the Baskerville legend with his wand to some kids.

'Keep away from the moor at night if you value your lives!' he said spookily. Several children gasped.

Sherlock had a grin on his lips as he held the door open to John. 'Might want to talk with him as well.'

'Really?' John asked. He followed Sherlock to the bar.

'Sorry, we don't serve underage wizards,' the wizard behind it said cheerfully. 

'No, sorry we're not here for that.' Sherlock looked at the man as he wiped down the glass he was holding. 'We're friends of Henry Baskerville-we're staying with him for Christmas.'

'Blimey what's he doing back here?' The man looked shocked. 'He'll be murdered!'

Sherlock sent him a piercing look and John spoke up. 'We're worried about him too. What do you know about the legend?'

The barman shook his head. 'Only what everyone knows-just the legend. That some monster's after all the Baskerville heirs.' He shook his head. 'Don't know. Could be real, might not be. Either way, I still stay off the moor at night.'

'There's no evidence of there being a monster though,' Sherlock pointed out.

The barman shook his head and gestured to the young man outside, still charming the puppets. 'Fletcher's seen it.'

'Really?' Sherlock raised and eyebrow and swept towards the door.

'Keep an eye on your friend there.' The barman nodded at Sherlock who was walking outside. John looked at him. 'He seems like the type of kid to run straight into danger, and we've got too much of that here. Make sure you kids are away from the moor after it gets dark.'

John nodded slightly before following after Sherlock.

'Have you really seen the monster?' Sherlock asked Fletcher, as he packed up his puppets. 

Fletcher looked at him. He wasn't much older than Sherlock and John. 'Why?'

'We're friends of Henry Baskerville. We want to know if there really is something trying to kill him.'

Fletcher snorted. 'Well, there is . Best get him away from this place-it isn't safe for him. There's some ungodly hound out there.'

'Hound?' Sherlock asked. Fletcher nodded.

'I was out one night, near the moor. Saw it walking-well, it doesn't really walk. It lopes around weirdly, like it's arms and legs were different lengths and not built to walk on all fours. It's massive and dark and it makes a god-awful howling noise. Everyone here's heard it lately.' He looked at Sherlock and then held up his hand. 'My hand isn't even as big as the paw prints I found the next morning. There's something out there. You best tell Henry to get away and stay away, because no one knows what this thing is, and no one has survived an attack by it yet.


	14. Stapleton and Bluebell

'Letter from Mycroft,' John announced to Sherlock at breakfast a few days later.

'Finally.' Sherlock took it eagerly from John. 'He sure took his time...Yes! He's contacted the Knight facility and is gonna let us in.'

'Good,' John said, trying not to sound nervous. 'And hopefully we don't find anything.' 

'What not having any monster hunting today?' Sherlock smirked. 'I just want to see what sort of monsters that they're capable of creating over there, and if any of them could be capable of killing Henry.'

'Alright, so long as we're careful,' John said.

Henry sighed. 'I'm not gonna come-meeting up with my dad's friend Louise Mortimer-she's a healer.'

'Alright,' Sherlock said. 'And sometime this week we should look around Dewer's Hollow. Before you guys get too busy with Christmas preparations.'

'At night?' Henry yelped. 'Why would you want to go there at night? Didn't anybody warn you about keeping away from the moor at night-'

'"If we value our lives", yeah,' Sherlock finished, smiling a little. 'I want to assume that since we're warned to stay away at night, that must mean that's when the monster's out. So we need to go looking then.'

'Jesus, Sherlock, you're walking us into our deaths, most likely.' 

Sherlock shook his head. 'Preferably not, but the only way to find out if there's a monster and what it is is to find it.'

John groaned. 'Since when are you monster hunter extraordinaire?' He sighed. 'Fine, but only if Henry's okay with it.'

'If it'll help,' Henry said nervously. 'There's more dementors around the place at night too, Sherlock, so we need to be careful on that part as well.'

Sherlock nodded.

 

The Knight facility was alot bigger inside then it appeared on the outside. Gray brick walls and gated areas, guards all over the place. Cages full of magical creatures, and entire rooms full of potions and spell testers.

'So what is this place actually for?' John asked the wizard who was showing them around.

'We're developing anything of use-whether it's the next new potion to cure people from some ailment or new breeds of fantastic beasts to be ready for the net time a wizard war breaks out. Like Mrs Stapleton here-' he gestured to a woman at a desk who was paging through a book next to a small cauldron. 'That's her area, animals.'

'Stapleton?' John muttered to Sherlock. Sherlock nodded and walked up to the woman.

'Sorry but why did your daughter's rabbit have to die?' Sherlock said quickly. John blinked.

'Who are you?' Stapleton asked quietly, meeting Sherlock's eyes for a bit and then looking confused. She turned to look at John.

'Don't even bother. I'm Sherlock Holmes, this is John Watson, we go to Hogwarts and your daughter asked me to figure out what happened to Bluebell.' Sherlock shook his head. 'Locked hutch suggests an inside job, however the _glowing_.'

'I'm sorry, but I don't think that's any of your concern, no matter what my daughter told you.' Stapleton sighed. 'One of my experiments got to her-it was a sort of mix up. I couldn't have a potentially dangerous rabbit around my daughter and she'd already noticed her glowing.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'Well at least you have no qualms about lying to her and killing her pet.' He turned away. 'I think we can go, John.'

'What?'

'We're done here.'

Their guide led them out. And John waiting until they were completely off the grounds and heading back to the village before turning to Sherlock. 'Did we really just go through there to find out about Kirsty's rabbit?' John asked incredulously. 'What about the monster?'

'I need to ask Henry to describe it, but if there is one, it's definitely capable of coming from there. I bet you anything that whatever it is, it glows now, even if it didn't when Henry saw his father killed.'

John swallowed. 'Do you think Stapleton's behind it? Why would she be?'

'That would be jumping to conclusions,' Sherlock said. He was quiet for a bit. 'I think it's someone who has access to those materials, that's for sure.'

 

'So... you think there's a monster from the Knight building after me?' Henry asked over dinner.

'No, I think there's a person at the Knight facility after you who's using a monster.' Sherlock smiled. 'Don't take it personally; they're obviously after something other than just you dead-your whole family has been killed.'

'Sherlock.' John's voice was disapproving.

'No, it's fine,' Henry said quietly. 'I know what he means.' He looked at them both. 'That's not a good thing, is it?'

'Well, at least we have some area of people to look for-the ones who work with creatures up at Knight- and we know by your admission that we're looking for a "hound"...' Sherlock raised his eyebrows, looking at Henry. 'Tomorrow night, we're gonna go walking to Dewer's Hollow, but I've changed my mind about you coming.'

'Wait, what? Why?' Henry asked. He put down his fork. 'I mean I don't want to go, but I don't want you two going alone.'

Sherlock waved his hand. 'Don't worry, if my theory's right we'll be completely fine. If you come, maybe not.' Sherlock looked at John. 'So tomorrow night?'

John nodded resignedly.

 

The next night, Sherlock and John were out on the moor, Sherlock leading the way with his lit wand and John following with the map just to make sure they were going the right way.

Suddenly a rush of cold hit them both and John sensed Sherlock panicking already. 'Come on, Sherlock, lets just keep walking. Henry said there wouldn't be any of them near the Hollow.

'I know that,' Sherlock snapped. Then he shivered. 'Just keep your wand out and keep next to me.'

John nodded and hurried to catch up with Sherlock. 'You are able to do the charm now, right?'

'As best as can be expected,' Sherlock said, sounding annoyed. 'But it's still not full-bodied, which is why I'd prefer that we move quicker.'

It was another ten minutes before they found the Hollow, John almost falling down the hill into it because of the dark and the fog. Sherlock had had to grab his arm. 

'Sorry,' John said, regaining his balance.

Sherlock nodded, watching John. 'Let's take a look around down there.'

They were halfway down the hill when John heard the snarling. 'Sherlock, did you-' he whispered. Sherlock shushed him and nodded. John looked behind them into the canopy of dark green and black. He couldn't see a thing and was starting to feel scared. This hadn't been a good idea-why did the two of them never think to bring anyone along?

Then there was a loud mournful inhuman and not even quiet dog-like howl a few meters to their right. John caught a glimpse of something eerie and green, but whatever it was disappeared as soon as he'd seen it. Sherlock swung his wand around wildly, but only managed to catch the movement of branches and leaves as the thing-whatever it was-left. 'Dammit,' Sherlock muttered. 'Must've been just out of sight.'

John shivered. 'Can...can we get out of here now?' 

Sherlock nodded, looking at John. 'You cold?'

'No just scared out of my mind for the moment. Why didn't it attack us?'

'Because we're not Henry,' Sherlock said smiling as they climbed up the hill. 'I'm thinking my theory is right, that it knows only to attack Henry. A bunch of deaths would cause enough of a stir for so many people from the ministry to come investigating, but from just family members-it's not as big an issue. Chalked up to some freak accidents near a freak facility and coincidence that it was all the same family.'

When they got back to Henry's house and into the room, John started changing into pajamas right away, hoping he'd feel safer in his bed. 'So what do we do now? Can we do anything?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'Nothing yet. I have another theory that I want to test, but I'll wait for that one.


	15. The Hound

'I haven't found him yet, have you?' Victor asked John.

'No.' John was beyond worried. What if Sherlock had gone out to the moor and met a dementor and hadn't been able to do the patronus charm. What if the hound or whatever it was had attacked him, despite whatever Sherlock thought about it only wanting to hurt Henry. 'I want to try looking for him on the moor but that would take ages. Probably the best thing to do is just wait.'

Henry nodded anxiously. 'God, I hope he hasn't ran into a dementor...' he muttered, sitting in the front room.

John shook his head. 'Let's just hope he's down in the village or something, or coming back here soon.'

 

Sherlock spun around at the howling noise. This probably had been the stupidest idea he'd ever have, but better he risk it than Henry or John. He clutched Henry's Hufflepuff scarf tightly, turning on the spot, trying to figure out where the beast was. Then he heard it close behind him and swallowed heavily, turning around slowly.

When he did he gasped. 'No...you're not a monster at all,' he whispered. 'Oh my god...'

The thing growled even more loudly, crouching down.

'God, what've they done to you?' Sherlock muttered quietly, reaching out a hand slowly and carefully walking towards it. He wasn't even thinking of the danger or that to it, he must be Henry because of how the scarf smelled. He just needed to find a way to help.

But it was completely the wrong move. The monster was on him in seconds, clawing and tearing at every inch of him it could reach. Sherlock threw up an arm to protect his face and screamed as the monster clamped it between it's jaws, shaking its head roughly. He couldn't stop screaming; he was going to lose his arm, he was going to die out here in agony. He felt its claws rake his chest and screamed again. Sherlock tried his best to stay conscious and think but pain was flooding his body. Then it hit him and with his good arm, he raised the scarf in front of the creature's nose. 

It inhaled, sniffing it, and then snarled lowly. With what felt like the last of his strength, Sherlock flung the scarf from him, praying it would lead the beast away.

It did. The thing tore after the scarf and Sherlock heard it tearing it to pieces. He groaned in pain as he tried to drag himself away and ended up collapsing in the mud, fighting to stay awake. He was dimly aware of the beast turing back to him before he heard a loud shrill whistle. 

Sherlock raised his head watching the beast tear off in the direction of the sound. Then his vision swam and he blacked out, his head heavily thudding against the ground.

 

'Should we send Barrymore out to look for him?' Henry suggested.

John hesitated. 'I don't know. What if he comes back and he's...not okay and we can't help...' He was beyond worried, it was far too late, Sherlock had been gone too long.

Then he heard the front door open and he and Henry sprang to their feet, John the first one to the hallway before he froze dead in his tracks at the site that met him.

Sherlock, barely standing, soaked in blood and covered in mud, breathing heavily. His left arm hung useless at his side, looking like it had been torn to shreds.

'The...' Sherlock gasped in pain and John ran to him. '...hound...' Sherlock collapsed into John's arms.

'Get help!' John yelled at Henry frantically, and heard him run off, shouting for Barrymore, sounding scared. 'Sherlock, you're gonna be okay.'

'John...promise me that you won't...won't let Henry go out there...not without someone else...' And his eyes rolled back as he fainted.

Barrymore came pelting down the hallway and knelt next to John swiftly.

'What the hell happened?' he muttered concerned, sharp eyes looking at John.

'He was gone for ages and just came back...like this,' Henry whispered.

John closed his eyes mentally kicking himself for not staying by Sherlock. 'There's claw marks all over his chest and throat, and it looks like his arm was nearly torn off. I don't know...'

Barrymore stood swiftly. 'I'm sending for Mortimer. Henry, John, put your cloaks on whatever looks like it's bleeding the most and try to get it to stop. Don't move him until Mortimer says it's okay...'

Sherlock awoke suddenly, yelping in pain and sitting up far too quickly. 

'Might want to lay back down.' John sounded tired. Sherlock looked over at him. 

'What...?' Then his vision swam for a moment and he ended up throwing up over the side of the bed. 

John sat quietly, his features written with relief. Then- 'I thought you were gonna die, Sherlock.'

'ughh.' Sherlock groaned weakly. 'Feels like I still might.' His left arm was heavily bandaged and in a sling and his chest and neck hurt. 'Wheres Henry?' he asked suddenly.

'Asleep. It's about 1 am on Christmas, mate. You've been out for almost a day.'

And Sherlock could tell that John had been sitting there the entire time. 'Sorry...I...I din't think,' Sherlock said softly. 'I just wanted to find out for sure that it would only attack Henry.' 

'Yeah and you were wrong,' John said angrily. 'You almost got _killed_.'

But Sherlock shook his head. 'No. I had Henry's scarf so i would smell like him. It attacked me because it thought I was him. While it was...ripping my arm off, I put the scarf in front of it's face so it would smell it and then threw it away and the creature chased after it.' He sighed. 'There was a whistle, John. Someone blew a whistle and...it ran after it.'

'So someone is behind it attacking Henry.' John shook his head. 'That's awful...'

'It gets worse,' Sherlock groaned as he shifted. 'Whatever attacked me was human.'

'WHAT?' John looked at Sherlock. 'You kept calling it a creature, everyone says hound or monster, but it's human?'

Sherlock nodded. 'It's why I was off my guard. I...it looked so hurt I can't imagine...' He looked up at John, his eyes slightly red. 'He was a werewolf John, emphasis on was because the amount of experiments that had probably been done on him....'

John swallowed heavily. 'There's got to be some law against that or something, right? I mean, if it did come from Baskerville, they shouldn't be allowed...'

'No, laws regarding people who ...are werewolves aren't very good...they're incredibly misunderstood to be monsters...always treated as less than human. I doubt even my brother would give a damn in this case.' He put his face in his hand. 'And the awful thing about it is that whoever he was, he'll probably be killed by the end of this just to save Henry, because at this point I have no idea if there's any way to save him...'

'Hang on!' John said, sounding panicked. 'Don't you become a werewolf if you've been bitten by one?' His eyes went to Sherlock's arm and then back to Sherlock's eyes, scared.

'Not really a concern at present, is it John, since the full moon was last week.' Sherlock gave John a weak smile and John almost hit him. 'Careful, I've already almost died this week.' He shifted. 'No, I don't think that will happen in this case. He was a werewolf when he attacked me, even though it wasn't the full moon. I think whatever they did to him keeps him that way, and that probably affects whoever gets bitten.' He sighed and looked at John. 'I'm not so sure we should tell Henry that it was a werewolf though.'

'Why not?' John asked. 'Shouldn't he know? Maybe he'll think of a way to help-'

'Quite the opposite,' Sherlock murmured. 'He comes from a wizarding family, and an older, prouder one at that. Remember, they're incredibly misunderstood to be monsters...for all we know, he might be willing to support this sort of experiments.'

'You're from a wizarding family too though, and you sound like all you want to do is help him,' John pointed out. 'How come Henry wouldn't sympathize, but you would?'

'Because I know what it's like to have your life a living hell just because you're different,' Sherlock said angrily. 'My pathetic muggle father saw to-' He stopped and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. 'Sorry...I just...sorry.'

'No it's fine-'

'Remember this summer?' Sherlock said in a tight voice. 'It was my father-my father died. Shot himself, right in the face, right in front of me.' Sherlock looked up at John. 'He said "You made me do this, my life was hell because of you, you little freak." And then blew his face out.' sherlock's voice was too cold, too hardened. 'It was mostly his blood on me.'

'Jesus, Sherlock...'

'I came back to the house, I don't know why it was stupid, and I shouldn't have, but Mycroft had mentioned it and I don't know what I was thinking, but I'd gotten upstairs and seen him with the gun and then he was on me, hitting me with it, so I tried to go for my wand and he stepped back and ...shot himself. I got up, and I stepped in the bastard's blood and no matter how much he'd hurt me, that was still the worst bit, his body at my feet and his blood...so I phone for Mycroft and then ran...'

'So he...he did all that because you're a wizard?' John said in shock. Sherlock nodded. 

'I think. I _never_ understood it. He at least married my mother and he adored Mycroft-never laid a finger on him.' He looked at John. 'So you can get why I sympathize with our werewolf-just because he's different and dangerous, he's gotten hurt. And nothing can fix that.' 

'We can try,' John said. And Sherlock nodded.


	16. Christmas on the Moor

'Hey, mate it's Christmas, get up.' 

John was shaking Sherlock gently and Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, groaning quietly. 'What time is it?' He asked, blearily, sitting up and looking at the tiny pile of presents at the foot of his bed. John walked over to his own pile of presents, grinning.

'It's about one. Henry's down with Mortimer and the Barrymores. Mortimer said she wants to check you over after you've eaten.'

'Ugh I'll pass,' Sherlock said under his breath. He started reading one of the letters addressed to him, his brow furrowing the more he read. Then he sat back, still frowning.

'What is it?' John asked. Sherlock shook his head slowly.

'I...don't know...' He sighed and went for another gift.

 

'You look like you're doing well, Sherlock.' Mortimer said happily, letting Sherlock pull on a t-shirt. Sherlock grunted quietly in acknowledgement. 'Just don't do anything to aggravate the healing-I'd suggest taking it easy the next few days.'

John smirked at Sherlock, knowing his friend would never be able to do that, especially while they were still dealing with Henry's problem.

'There's a dinner party tonight,' Henry told them as the three of them headed out to wander down to the village in the snow, 'Bunch of people from town and people my parents knew will be there.'

'Did they know someone from Knight named Stapleton?' Sherlock asked.

Henry looked at him, surprised. 'Yeah, dad did. They sort of worked together, at least that's what dad told me. They argued quite a bit, but were pretty close.' Henry panted for a bit as they paused from the walk. 'Did you meet her while you were up there?'

'Yeah,' John said. 'She was making rabbits glow-Ah right, Sherlock. The er...creature that attacked you, you said if it was glowing then you thought it would have come from Knight, right?'

Sherlock nodded, looking at John slyly. 'It was glowing when I saw it. It's definitely from the Knight facility-we just need to figure out why and who...'

'But my family's worked with the Knight facility for years!' Henry exclaimed. 'We've donated money to fund their experiments and research-' Sherlock gave John a pointed look and John remembered what Sherlock had said about Henry's family most likely supporting the werewolf experiments, '-we've only argued with them a few times and that was my dad-he was pretty freethinking, so he said some of the more recent stuff they were doing wasn't so good-wouldn't tell me about it though.'

Sherlock nodded. 'So Stapleton will be at your manor tonight?'

'Yeah. Her and a couple others from Knight. I don't know that many people, so if you guys wouldn't mind hanging around?'

'Yeah, of course we will,' John said. He could tell Sherlock needed to question Stapleton and he wasn't to keen on the idea of heading back into the facility. 

 

Sherlock sighed as they sat waiting for guests to arrive. 'I sent Imogene to Lestrade earlier today...hopefully he's able to come up here tomorrow.'

'Do you think there's enough for him to investigate?' John asked. Sherlock shrugged.

'We can tell him everything we've found out so far. That should be enough to get him searching. Also the werewolf experimentation - if only we could prove that to him, then he could get inside the Knight facility and start asking questions.'He looked at John. 'I just hope nothing happens to Henry before he can even get here.'

'Don't worry,' John said reassuringly. 'I think we've done enough to convince Henry to stay here unless someone's with him, especially at night. He should be safe.'

They sat for a while, watching people, before Sherlock gently elbowed John with his good arm. 'Stapleton,' he whispered, moving his head towards where Henry was standing.

The woman was approaching Henry, looking like she wanted pleasant conversation, and yet her eyes were looking far too intently at the boy.

'She always looks like she's going to glare holes through everyone,' John muttered, watching Stapleton begin talking to Henry. 

'She's an adept legilimens.' Sherlock was watching intently.

'What is that?' John asked curiously. Sherlock looked over to him and smiled.

'Alot of times I forget your muggleborn and won't hear of anything until we've learned it.' Sherlock rubbed his neck, wincing. 'Basically means she can read minds-tried to with me when we met, and then was going to with you until I told him who we were.'

'And she didn't get that from your mind?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'It takes a certain...practice of building up mental defenses and willpower to keep someone out, something I'm able to do the majority of the time.' He smiled at John. 'You don't need to worry though-it's not something many people are able to do.'

John nodded and swallowed as Stapleton walked up.

'Sherlock Holmes, so sorry to hear you were injured,' Stapleton said, offering to shake Sherlock's hand. Sherlock did so after hesitating.

'Did Henry let you know?' Sherlock asked.

Stapleton gave him a thin smile. 'In a manner of speaking, yes.' She shook John's hand. 'You ought to keep an eye on him, mister Watson. Our resident monster is quite lethal, I'm told.'

'Sorry,' Sherlock said suddenly. 'but I was wondering what other sort of animals you do experiments on up at Knight.'

Stapleton met his eyes evenly, still smiling. 'Oh all sorts. Animals and magical creatures especially have very unique properties. We're hoping to discover some uses for the wizarding world.'

John frowned. This didn't sound right to him at all.

'Have you ever experimented on werewolves?' Sherlock asked, watching Stapleton.

The witch's smile faded quickly. 'Oh I wouldn't be allowed to tell you that-have to kill you if I did.' Stapleton laughed, but without any humour.

John felt himself tensing for a fight but Sherlock smiled easily. 'That would be tremendously ambitious of you,' he said calmly.

'Heh.' Stapleton smirked, eying Sherlock. 'Would it really?' She reached out and suddenly gripped Sherlock's injured arm firmly. Sherlock jerked back in pain, making a small noise and Stapleton smiled. 'I don't think so. Take care Holmes, Watson.' And she walked away.

Sherlock gave a small whimper, rubbing his arm and John took his good arm to lead him out into the hall. 'You okay? Did she reopen anything?'

'No.' Sherlock shook his head angrily. 'Stupid...' He looked at John. 'I hope Lestrade gets up here soon-she's way too happy with everything that's going on around here.'


	17. Sherlock's Patronus

'I'm going up to the Knight building to talk to this Stapleton,' Lestrade said. He was taller than both Sherlock and John, hardened face with kind eyes and features and dark hair. He was watching Sherlock's every move carefully-with some concern as Sherlock moved where he was injured. 'You two do your best to keep an eye on Henry Baskerville...get his guardian Barrymore to make sure no one comes in the manor tonight besides us.'

It was late after dinner the night after Christmas. Lestrade's owl had reached them that morning telling Sherlock and John that he would be at Dartmoor later in the night to help. John had been relieved; Sherlock apprehensive. 

'And Sherlock?' Lestrade asked as they parted at the door to the inn in the village. 'I mean this--you've already been hurt-Do Not go out there. I don't want to be picking your body off the grass anywhere.'

When they arrived back at Baskerville manor, Henry was no where to be found. 

'Dammit,' Sherlock muttered.

'Where could he have gone?' John asked. 'We told him to stay here unless he was with someone...'

Sherlock swore. 'MR BARRYMORE!' he shouted, hurrying downstairs. Barrymore stepped out of one of the rooms. 'What's wrong, Sherlock?'

'Where did Henry go?'

'He's out on a walk with Mrs Stapleton. He wanted to catch up-Stapleton and Henry's father were very close...'

'Yeah they were in alot of photos together, Henry showed us a photo album,' John said distractedly as Sherlock swore.

'There's a detective inspector Lestrade on his way over here soon, when he gets here, let him know we're all out on the moor.'

Barrymore grabbed Sherlock's arm, making the boy stop dead in his tracks and pull away violently, panic in his eyes.

'Henry's in danger.' Barrymore said. Sherlock nodded and Barrymore frowned. 'Please don't let him get hurt-I'll send the inspector...be careful!' 

'Sherlock!' John ran as fast as he could to catch up with his friend who was pelting out the door and into the snow. 'Sherlock wait!'

'WHAT?' Sherlock shouted. He kept running, slipping for a moment on the white covered grass. 

'Calm down okay, and quit running for the moment.' John caught up to Sherlock and Sherlock glared at him slightly. 'No, seriously, Sherlock, your gonna reopen those bloody wounds and then you won't be able to help anyone.'

Sherlock nodded slowly, breathing heavily. 'Sorry...sorry. I just need to...keep moving.'

John nodded. 'I know. And we need to help Henry, I know. But Lestrade's gonna be here soon, and it could be snowing too much for them to have gone too far. Just take it a little bit easier, okay?' He hesitated for a moment and then hugged Sherlock briefly, but tightly. 'It's gonna be okay.' Because John knew that "keep moving" meant more than just finding Henry and helping him, he knew Sherlock needed to keep moving in an attempt to forget everything that was hurting him.

'Okay,' Sherlock said softly, hands at his sides awkwardly, not looking at John's eyes. 'I'm okay.'

'Alright then.'

They set off again, not as quickly this time. 

The snow was coming down harder as it got darker. Finally, Sherlock saw two figures in the distance, stopped and talking. He stopped walking and pointed at them to John before he heard the same whistle he had before he'd lost consciousness on the moor.

'No no no...' Sherlock said, and took off at a run.

'What, what is it?' John asked, darting after Sherlock.

'She's summoned the werewolf, she's gonna try to kill Henry and get away before it comes, we...gotta stop her..'

John nodded, trying to keep pace with his friend. He saw the outline of Stapleton turn to face them, and before John could even shout, a jet of light had hit Sherlock, tripping him face forward onto the snow. Sherlock let out a cry of pain.

'Are you okay?' John said, panicking and stopping beside Sherlock, trying to turn him over.

'No!' Sherlock shouted, pushing John away looking fearful. John too late realized he'd been practically on top of Sherlock and backed off. 'Stop Stapleton, stop Stapleton...!'

John nodded and took off at a run.

Sherlock struggled to his feet, clutching his chest. One of the wounds was bleeding again. He only hoped that John wouldn't be overpowered by Stapleton. He set off at a run towards Henry, hearing the howl of the experimented werewolf, shuddering as he did. Henry was spinning about in fear, trying to determine where his attacker would come from. Sherlock then realized that Henry didn't have a wand.

The beast leapt out of the shadows at Henry, grabbing the boy and tackling him to the ground, clawing at him angrily. But Sherlock jumped on the back of the beast. It growled angrily and shook Sherlock off itself then pounced on the boy, growling over Henry's cries of pain. The massive mutated paws hit Sherlock him his chest, sending him to the ground and he coughed in pain, unable to breathe. The beast growled in his face and Sherlock pulled out his wand, waving it in front of the werewolf, sending out a few trace sparks as he did.

The werewolf suddenly jumped back, backing up slowly away from the wand. 'They tortured you with magic,' Sherlock whispered sadly, watching the beast's eyes follow his wand. 'I am sorry, I am so sorry....'

Then his blood went cold as he heard John scream in pain and turned in time to see his friend collapse to the ground. Sherlock felt his heart stop within his chest and waved his wand at the werewolf, sending a jet of light past it's right shoulder.

It panicked and ran-straight at Stapleton. 'HOLMES!" Stapleton shouted, trying to run from the beast. Sherlock avoided the woman's cries, hurrying over to John and sliding into a kneel next to his whimpering friend.

'What did she do, John...John!' Sherlock frantically looked John over, turning him onto his back to see John clutching his chest.

'Ribs...' John grunted softly, his breath hissing between his teeth. 'What...what does it feel like to break a rib..?' He he was taking short quick breaths, but kept his eyes on Sherlock's face.

'It hurts when you breath and move,' Sherlock said. ' If it's more than one, it's gonna be harder to breath.' He was struggling to keep his voice calm. 'I'm...I'm gonna push on your chest slightly, if it hurts alot...then yeah.' 

John nodded and then gestured to the right side. Sherlock pushed on it lightly, John cried out and Sherlock pulled his hand away quickly, looking stricken. Then again his body went to ice as he heard a terrible dog-like yelp of pain.

'Finally dead you monster!' Stapleton shouted.

'NO!' Sherlock shouted, jumping to his feet and ignoring John's weak protest of 'She'll kill you too!' He ran at Stapleton, pulling out his wand before he tackled the woman, narrowly avoiding a jet of green light. Sherlock slammed Stapleton's head to the ground and then shouted into her face, 'IT WAS HUMAN!'

'Not anymore,' Stapleton groaned, grinning up at Sherlock. 

Sherlock growled loudly. 'IT JUST WANTED TO EXIST!' he screamed, hitting Stapleton again and again until the woman was unconscious and bleeding on the ground. He sat back, panting, before he walked over to the body of the werewolf, tears leaking from his eyes.

'I'm sorry,' Henry said weakly from the ground near them. 'Sherlock, I didn't know...'

Sherlock shook his head and then turned to Henry, his eyes still wet. 'You okay?'

Henry shook his head. 'Bleeding alot...so are you,' he said looking at the blood staining through Sherlock's shirt. 'Can't walk to well, probably,' Henry said.

Sherlock nodded and helped him up. 'We'll just sit with John until help gets here.

But as Sherlock helped Henry sit to beside his friend, he felt the cold seep into the air slowly and felt panic rising in this chest. 'John,' he said softly. 'John, the...the dementors...they're coming.'

John swore faintly, struggling to sit up and making a pained noise. Then his eyes widened as he looked behind Sherlock. 'There's three,' he said shakily.

Sherlock spun, standing as he did so, ignoring ever fibre of his body that told him not to. John also rose shakily to his feet, standing in front of Henry, one hand on Sherlock's upper arm for support. 'Might as well hold them off for as long as we can. There's no way Henry can get away, he's lost too much blood, and I can barely stand.' John looked at Sherlock. 'You should leave and find help.'

'No.' Sherlock spoke firmly. And then he turned towards the dementors and sent out a silvery light from his wand. 

John's German Shepherd burst forth and charged at the dementors, keeping them at bay. Sherlock heard the familiar rushing noises in his ears as the silvery gust from his wand grew thinner, the dementors sapping his strength. It wasn't long before John's dog vanished.

'Expect...Ex-' John's voice faded and his grip on Sherlock's arm was gone as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

'JOHN!' Sherlock shouted. His silvery wisp flicked out and the dementors glided closer. Henry's breathing sped up, and he whimpered, sounding terrified. Sherlock crouched over John and shook his friend lightly. 'Wake up, please. John, I need you, please...' He felt a cold wind on the back of his neck and his vision swam. They were going to die. John was going to die.

'No,' Sherlock whispered, struggling to turn around and face the dementor's raising his wand as his legs slowly straightened so Sherlock was standing. He felt incredibly dizzy and sick, he knew he too would pass out soon and then all would be lost, but he also knew that he had to protect John. And that overruled any weakness in his body or mind, because John meant everything.

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!' Sherlock screamed. 

And from his wand leapt forth a massive skeletal winged horse and Sherlock staggered back, recognizing it. They pulled the carriages at Hogwarts, though he'd never bothered to find out what they were called. He'd always sensed death around them, but now here was his patronus, the same winged scary horse, protecting the tree boys. Sherlock watched it in awe as it chased down one of the dementors, sending it away, before a silver fox joined it in attacking the other two, and Sherlock saw Lestrade reach the top of the hill.

'Oh god, Sherlock,' Lestrade said, lowering his wand as the patronuses faded. Sherlock fell to his knees and Lestrade hurried over, kneeling in front of him and looking into his face. 'You alright, son?'

Sherlock smirked at a man who was maybe a little over ten years older than Sherlock calling him son, but then spoke weakly. 'John's got broken ribs, Henry's lost alot of blood and the...the werewolf's...dead over...over...' And finally his world went black.


	18. Protectors

'So how did you know that it was Stapleton?' Lestrade asked Sherlock as they all sat in Henry's main room around the fire two days later. 

John's ribs still ached and Henry and Sherlock were both bandaged, but they at least were all alive, and that was what mattered. Sherlock glanced at Henry. 'Would you mind finding that photo album you showed John and me the other day?'

Henry nodded and left to get the album. Lestrade settled back into his chair and Sherlock looked back at Lestrade.

'So what's gonna happen to the Knight facility?' John asked. Sherlock's eyes tightened slightly-the night before he'd been in John's room almost crying about whoever it was that had died as a werewolf on the moor. John wanted to see that something would be done about it.

Lestrade grimaced. 'Well, that's not really my division. However, the evidence given by the body of the werewolf should be enough to get them into trouble.' His tongue slid across his lips and he looked at the floor thoughtfully. 'And there are people in higher places who've promised me that they would "take care of it". I'm assuming that means that they're looking into shutting it down.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'One place closes, another will open. It's gonna be a while before anyone can put a stop to that kind of cruelty.' He looked up as Henry reentered the room. 'Have you got it?'

Henry nodded. 'Were you looking for the photo of dad and Stapleton?' he asked, flipping to the page.

Sherlock nodded and took the album from him looking at the photo. 'See Stapleton and Henry's dad? And then Henry's grandfather on the next page?' Sherlock put his finger over the bottom half of Henry's dad's and grandfather's faces so only their eyes up were showing.

'Christ they look just like Stapleton,' Lestrade muttered.

Sherlock nodded and looked at Henry. 'I'm assuming your grandfather had two kids-Stapleton and your father-just with two different women.' Henry grimaced, sitting back in his chair and Sherlock looked at him for a while before saying 'sorry,' quietly.

'I had no idea,' Henry said softly. Then he looked at Sherlock. 'But you were right, a human was behind this all, just to get her hands on the Baskerville estate-the money, this house...'

Lestrade sighed. 'Stapleton's going to Azkaban, and the Knight facility is gonna get taken care of.' He looked at the three of them. 'Now that's left is to make sure you all stay out of trouble from now on.'

'No promises, inspector,' Sherlock said, smirking. 

They heard a knock from the front door and shortly after, Barrymore was leading Mycroft Holmes into the room.

'Excuse me,' Mycroft said, smiling tightly. 'Mr Baskerville and Mr Barrymore, I was wondering if I might have a word with these three gentlemen alone.' And as Henry and Barrymore left, nodding, Mycroft turned to John. 'And I only include you because I am aware my brother will make a fuss were I to send you away.'

Sherlock scowled. 'Then why keep him?' Sherlock asked, pointing at Lestrade.

'The good inspector and I have been in touch, ever since you first contacted him-not that he's responded as I would have liked, but after the activities here of two nights ago, I felt I should put in an appearance here.' Mycroft sighed, still standing. It looked unlikely that he would sit. 'Lestrade, I've checked into the Knight facility like you asked and it's been taken care of. This means you owe me a favour now.'

'What d'you mean, taken care of?' John asked, his eyes wide.

'I mean that their unethical ... activities have been brought to a ceasefire, all victims are being looked after and all perpetrators questioned thoroughly,' Mycroft said smoothly. John nodded.

'Is that it?' Sherlock sounded irritated.

'No.' Mycroft looked at Sherlock sharply and Sherlock glared back. 'You've almost been killed on this little excursion of yours, you could have gotten John or Henry killed-' Sherlock flinched beside John and John swallowed, wanting to hit Mycroft. '-all because you have to do things without asking for help.'

'Yeah like you've ever done anything,' Sherlock muttered between his teeth.

Mycroft snarled and bent over Sherlock who shivered violently as Mycroft's face was in his. 'Do you really think I don't _care_ , Sherlock?' Mycroft hissed. John saw Sherlock flinch again and clenched his fists. Mycroft didn't know then, not nearly enough. Enough to take Sherlock away from harm, but not to protect him, not to help him heal. 'You're lucky-ministry was going to send inquiries as to why you and Mr Watson were underage using magic out here when Mr Baskerville had Ministry protection at his beck and call-'

'Your lot never helped, they never do, just like you,' Sherlock said, managing to keep his voice remarkably steady despite how badly he was now trembling. 'For once, Mycroft, will you let it go?'

'I don't want to have to pick up your body, Sherlock!' Mycroft suddenly raised his voice angrily and Sherlock flinched. John shot to his feet and Lestrade said 'hey!' loudly.

Mycroft backed away from Sherlock, still glaring at the boy.

'Get out.' Sherlock's voice was faint, not looking into his brother's eyes. 'Get out, I'm done with you, I have been for ages, all of you ... Just. Get. AWAY FROM ME!' he finished loudly, springing from his chair and leaving the room.

John didn't even hesitate to follow and left without sparing Mycroft another glance. He found Sherlock in a room at the end of the hall, crouched into a ball and breathing heavily with his hands on his head. 'Hey...hey...' John said gently, walking over to his friend slowly. 'You're fine, you're safe. He's not gonna do anything to you...'

Sherlock made a small whimpering noise, still breathing heavily. 

'He's a damn bastard, Mycroft,' John said, kneeling a little away from Sherlock.

There was a weak chuckle over an unsteady breath. Sherlock put his head up slightly and John saw that his friend's eyes were wet. 'After all those years, he couldn't even guess...that something would have happened between my father and me before...he...he shot himself.' Sherlock's voice tremoured. 'Didn't even think....the idiot...'

John reached over and gently put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. 'You're gonna be okay. You're fine.' He felt a rush of relief as Sherlock relaxed at his touch and raised his head a little more. 'Any better?'

Sherlock nodded faintly. 'It's the worst thing. Not being able to control your reactions,' he said not looking at John. 

'Yeah.' He and Sherlock both turned as the door opened and Mycroft stood in the frame. John rose quickly, ready to hit the man, and felt Sherlock shiver beside him.

Mycroft looked at his younger brother almost sadly. 'Send me an owl if you two need anything. Otherwise I fear this will be the last I see of you two for a long while.' And he swept out.

Sherlock gave a small laugh. 'I think that was an apology,' he said weakly.

John relaxed. 'If that works for you, then it works for me. Although I am still considering strangling him.'

'The ministry would fail without him,' Sherlock said, smiling tightly and standing. 'He'll be in his line of duty and away from me. That's all that matters.'

 

On the train back to Hogwarts, Sherlock turned to John thoughtfully after staring out the window for a long time. 

'If someone says they like you...as more than friends, what should you do?'

John looked at him, startled. Then he smiled a little at Sherlock. 'This is Victor, isn't it?'

Sherlock looked alarmed. 'How did you know?'

'Oh come on, mate, I've seen the way he looks at you, and he was heartbroken after that girl kissed you after the match.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Do you think that's why he wasn't talking to me?' John nodded.

'Do you like him back?' John asked, still smiling.

It was a little bit before Sherlock nodded carefully. 'I think so.' John grinned.

'Then you should probably tell him!'

Sherlock blinked and then looked down. 'I'm still...having problems wrapping my head around this, namely why he would like me,' he admitted. He looked at John. 'You've seen me, do you honestly think I could pull off a relationship? for god's sakes, you can barely sit next to me without me flinching.'

'If he cares enough about you, I think you could make it work out somehow,' John said. He smiled again. 'You can always back out if you don't like it. Just tell him how you feel, and how you feel about...the two of you, and see what he says.'

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully before going back to looking out the window.

John pictured Victor and Sherlock together. It could work. Victor was one of the few people who seemed to unconditionally be friends with Sherlock. For some reason though, the thought of the two together sent a pang of sadness through John's body. He didn't know why, but it felt like Victor would be taking Sherlock away from him if he and Sherlock were together.

 _We're friends_ , John told himself. _I am NOT jealous of Victor Trevor for dating a_ friend.'

And Sherlock started talking about some new potions experiment before John could think much more about it.


	19. Whole Again

Victor and Sherlock were nearly always together the first few weeks of class. John caught them holding hands in the common room once while the three of them were doing homework, and ended up smiling faintly. It was probably a good thing for Sherlock to have someone, especially after how his year had been. 

'So you guys are doing well then?' John asked Victor as the two stood outside the potions classroom, waiting for Sherlock. 

'What-Oh, yeah, it's going great.' Victor smiled. 'I'm glad he er...actually told me how he felt...I mean, he was with you nearly all the time, so I just assumed...'

'Most people do,' John said smiling. 'Hopefully you two together will do him well.'

Victor nodded absently. Then he and John turned sharply as Sally Donovan strode over to them. 

'Where's the freak?' she asked, sounding impatient.

'What the hell?' Victor asked. 'What do you want with him?' 

She seemed to spare him a loathing glance before turning to John. 'I don't want to hear from his fag boyfriend-'

'Funny, earlier you thought that was me,' John said coolly.

'Sally.' Sherlock's voice hissed through them as he swept out through the door to the potions classroom. 'What do you want?' he asked, putting his arm around Victor's waist and looking at her pointedly. 'And if it's to insult Victor, I kindly suggest you leave before I decide to do something awful to that mouth of yours.'

'Freak's found himself some balls,' Sally muttered, raising her eyebrows and sounding impressed. She held up a hand as John started towards her. 'The girl who kissed you at the Quidditch match-' she rolled her eyes, pulling a face of disgust, 'Overheard people saying you wanted to know.' She looked at Sherlock. 'Her name's Irene Adler.'

Sherlock blinked. 'Why would you be helping me?'

Sally smiled faintly. 'Because I want to see if you'll get involved with her. She's dangerous, apparently, and smart-she's in Slytherin, a couple years ahead.'

'Yeah, speaking of smart, I'm still trying to figure out how you got into Ravenclaw,' Victor said quickly. Sally snorted, shaking her head.

'So anyway, be sure to let me know when you get involved with her-I'd love to see her take you down.'

Sherlock smiled thinly. 'I look forward to it.' Then his eyes grew hard. 'Now run along, Sally, I'd hate for people to think we're actually enjoying our time here together.' He took Victor's hand in his own and walked away, John following the pair of them.

'What the bloody hell is her problem?' John asked angrily.

Sherlock shrugged. 'Doesn't matter. I am however wondering what makes this Irene so dangerous...'

Victor shook his head and kissed Sherlock's cheek. 'I'm sure you're figure it out.' Then he sighed. 'Last Quidditch match next week-I wish you guys could've been able to win the cup.'

'My fault,' Sherlock said, wincing. He'd still been injured from the werewolf attack over Christmas and been unable to play properly, so their captain had made him sit out. They'd lost, badly.

'No it wasn't, idiot.' John glared at him. 'It wouldn't have done you any good to get hurt trying to fly.' 

Victor nodded. 'Yeah he's right.' He looked at his watch. 'I gotta go-Peter needed help with McGonagall's essay, and I don't want him to fail the class.'

'You could just let him fail,' Sherlock purred, smiling faintly.

Victor grinned, shaking his head. 'See you guys.'

John turned to Sherlock once they got into a corridor. 'Are you happy?'

Sherlock blinked, moving his head back slightly. 'What are you asking?' he said, frowning.

John sighed. 'I'm wondering if you're happy-with Victor, with school with....life right now. This year's been pretty hell on you, I know that. And I just...' he shrugged. 'Wanna make sure you're okay.'

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. 'Yeah... yeah I am.' He flicked a smile at John and John smiled back. 

'Good.'

 

'How are things?' Moriarty sang softly as Sherlock closed the door to the empty classroom behind him. 'It's been a long time since we've had a chat, Sherlock.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Things are fine. What about you; pass your potions final?'

Moriarty smirked. 'I certainly hope so.' He moved his head from side to side slowly. 'You know what this is, Sherlock? This is the last time we're gonna meet on even footing. Because next year, everything changes.'

'What are you planning?'

'That would be cheating.' Moriarty chuckled. 'But I will tell you this, and it surprised me-Dumbledore had some reservations about agreeing to let me back as a teacher next year.' Sherlock blinked. 'Oh didn't you know? That doctor friend of yours was only planning on staying for a year. I had plans to kill him, but it turns out he'll be out of my way anyways...'

Sherlock growled, advancing on Moriarty. 'Don't. You. Dare.'

Moriarty made a 'tsk'-ing sound. 'Sherlock you're going to lose everything and only part of it will be done through me...you'll see. But it starts when we come back. And by the end of it, I'll be amazed if you're left standing.'

'Then I'll just have to bring you to your knees as well.'

Moriarty stood close, his face in front of Sherlock's. 'Ambitious, aren't we?' There was a smile playing in his eyes that Sherlock didn't like. 'Get ready. Because you're not gonna like it. Enjoy your friends and your safety while it lasts.'

'And you enjoy your life,' Sherlock said on impulse.

Moriarty froze and turned back to Sherlock, a dark grin on his face. 'My dear boy, whoever gave you the idea that I've _EVER_ enjoyed life?' and he turned away, leaving Sherlock with the image of a man who had nothing to lose.

 

'So you're not coming back?' John said as he and Sherlock stood in Bell's office, Bell sitting on his desk and looking at them, amused. 

'No. No, I can't.' Bell smiled faintly. 'As Sherlock knows, my work outside of Hogwarts is fairly important.' Sherlock nodded slowly. 'How are you boys doing? I heard about the events at Baskerville...'

'We're doing well,' Sherlock said. John nodded. Bell smiled satisfied. 

'Good.' He looked at Sherlock. 'I know I won't be here next year but I'm going to say the same thing I told you the last time we parted-if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me.'

Sherlock nodded. 'I won't. Thank you, sir.'

 

'Broken ribs,' John said, as he and Sherlock sat in the common room, waiting for Victor so they could go to lunch on one of the last days of term.

'What?' Sherlock looked at John questioningly.

'On the moor I'd asked you what broken ribs felt like, and you answered.' John tilted. 'How come?'

'You asked,' Sherlock said. 'So I assumed that you thought that I knew...' He put his head back. 'Ah. Rhetoric. You hadn't expected me to answer.' John nodded. Sherlock shifted and sat back in the armchair. 'Okay. Yeah. The final time my father...hurt me before I moved out left me fairly injured. If I remember right, there were three broken ribs.' John sucked in a breath. 'Luckily Mycroft walked in unannounced. He used magic against my father-wasn't expelled given the circumstances; besides he was in his last year, very high up, they never would have expelled him. I was taken to Bell while Mycroft figured out what would happen next.'

'I'm sorry, Sherlock,' John said softly.

'Don't be.' Sherlock exhaled swiftly. 'It's been about four years, it's fine. He's dead now, that's all behind me.' His eyes met John's, fiercely determined. And John nodded. 'I have mostly you to thank for thank,' Sherlock said finally, inclining his head to John.

And John smiled finally, realizing the weight of Sherlock's statement, happy and shocked that he'd been able to make such a difference in his friend's life.

 

'My mum's right there on the platform,' Victor said, pointing out their window. He looked at Sherlock and John. 'We've got plans right after this so I've really got to go.' He shook John's hand. 'See you, John.'

'Bye,' John said, smiling as Victor hugged Sherlock and then kissed him quickly before heading two the door. 'See you soon, Sherlock.'

'Bye,' Sherlock said smiling. Then he turned to John. 'Want you to meet someone, hurry up.'

Frowning, John followed Sherlock onto the platform and to where a small older witch was standing. Sherlock hugged her quickly, and then broke away turning to John.

'This is Mrs Hudson.' John shook hands with her, realizing how fond Sherlock's voice sounded and she smiled warmly at him. 'Landlady, housekeeper, excellent cook-'

'Just your landlady, dear, not your house-keeper,' Mrs Hudson corrected, in what sounded to be mock discouragement. 'Sherlock's staying with me from now on so of course he expects me to be everything, but I'm really just the landlady...'

'And housekeeper,' Sherlock said, smirking, 'and all but adoptive mother.' She beamed at him at that. 'Anyways, John, you're coming to stay with me at some point this summer.'

'John!' Mrs and Mrs Watson were walking over. They hugged John before Mrs Watson hugged Sherlock and Sherlock shook hands with John's father before Mrs Hudson introduced herself.

'I'm glad to see you're doing better, Sherlock,' Mrs Watson said. Sherlock smiled.

'Thank you.' He looked at John and smiled. 'Anyway, see you sometime this summer?'

'Definitely,' John agreed. Then he watched his friend walk away, looking happier than he'd seen him in a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a mix between BBC Sherlock's version of the Baskerville story sprinkled with some canon elements, and, as always, with the magic twist. I had the idea of the hound being an experiment werewolf for a long time, and BBC having genetic experiments in their episode gave me a way to do it and keep in with Sherlock of the tv series.  
> This was meant to be buildup to the final confrontation between Sherlock and Moriarty, which takes place in the next part.  
> As always, thanks for reading all the way through and I hope you'll contnue reading through year 4.


End file.
